I’ve stopped needing you in the ways that I needed you. I’ve stop wanting you in the ways that I craved you. I loved you, so many times I loved you much more than I love myself. I would deprive myself of sanity if it meant your comfort, that’s what you meant to me.
As egomaniac as I am, you mean more to me than I mean to myself. You just had to try to breathe and I would provide the oxygen, you just had to wish upon a star to my ears and it was yours. I tried to fill you with myself, tried to lift your dreams out of the other realm and into this world. I would empty myself to fill you up, I really did.
You’ve made me feel, you’ve made me feel much more than I thought I was capable of, to the point I now know it’s possible to squeeze water out of rock. For that I will always remember you. When I think of you for the 24th time at the 24th hour of the day I’ll remember that you made me feel and even if you’re no longer in my life; my heart still clenches when you come up.
I do have to walk away now. I’ve been static since you walked away, patiently and painfully waiting for you to go around the block and come back because surely you feel what I feel, you see what we mean to each other and you did come back severally only to regain the control you know you have and remind me that you could go and come as though I was a bench in the park. You come and you go and I stay. My heart broke and I patched it. My soul withered and I tried to grasp it but how does one hold on to vapor?
I’m now made up of dreams and the pain I suppress. My entire essence is made of memories of your kisses and taste of tears on my lips. The love I had for you has been replaced by the pain I feel for you and the lust I have for you has been replaced by a hungry lust for myself as I realize I try to talk about you in past tense but you enter my present as you always do.
So I must walk away now. Like I’ve done a hundred times, trusting that this is the one that’ll stick so that when I’m drowned in sadness and I reach out to you, I don’t have to hear your words as you say ‘How many times do you want me to tell you to move on?’
I don’t need you and You don’t deserve me.
So I tell myself repeatedly until I hear you say ‘Hello, it’s me’.
Miss Anon writes on Stories every Friday. We don’t know who she is.
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