gønegîrl

“I say I’m over it but when I close my eyes at night, it’s still your face I see. And I’d tell you I was sorry if it helped, if I was sure it was what you wanted to hear. The days we haven’t talked stretch like an abyss between us, each one tearing us further apart. Most of my anger has evaporated but I’m afraid the sadness lingers. It clings to the tips of my fingers, staining everything I touch. My cup of luke-warm tea, the letter I wrote you, his hands. Ever since I’ve noticed the waves of missing you kicking back in, I’ve been finding them all over the house - fragments of you. Your cautious smile in a photograph, slowly fading like we are. Your neat handwriting in an old journal, swearing you’d be here forever - and you were, right until the day you weren’t. And I hope you find someone who is to you what you were to me. Because I don’t want you to be lonely. I don’t want you to be sad. I just want you to miss me. Only a little. Not in a way that hurts you. Just in a way that reminds you that things have changed. Because I’m still a little mad, but I’m not cruel. Because you hurt me, but I hurt you too. And I won’t ask you to come back, because it’s not fair. You messed up, but so did I, and we can’t go back to what we once were. I just hope you know I’m here. I’m still here, no matter if you need me in a month, or in twelve years or if you don’t need me at all.”