Your fire burned me from the inside, setting my soul alight. Sending a wave of unknown emotion all over. But yet here I am sat alone in the dark extinguishing what’s left of me from the outside of my body and insides of my mind.
Each little flame fizzling out marking its territory on my skin. Each one deeper than the last. But these burns don’t hurt me the way my mind does. My skin shows the truth and what is actually there, my mind plays tricks.
It understands the reality of the situations but shows you each past memory every time your eyes are closed. Each smile you flashed me with is shown every time I blink. Our late night conversations flood my mind when I pass you in the corridors. The thrilling feeling rumbles lowly in my tummy when I write of you.
I bet you want to carry on seeing the ways I remember you. I bet reading this will make you feel empowered. But the thing is I can’t remember you that way anymore. I remember you as the friend who abandoned me, the kiss that should never of happened and the love that is artificial.
I remember you as the traitor. The hater and the person who I never thought you would be. I remember your double standards, and the aggression I took from you which I called love. I remember letting you mark me to prove you had been there, but you scarred my mind and now the evidence has gone.
I write about this because I’m moving on. I’m good at writing with emotion. But I no longer feel emotion towards you. But in no longer feeling anything towards you, I have never felt more alive.