You are not the man I thought you were.
I was in love with a ghost.
A vapor.
A story - of who you wanted to be for me.
Now I understand the man I loved did not exist.
It was always the hope.
It was always the potential.
The shared idea we had together.
It feels like suffocation accepting this was a lie.
I hope I can breathe again soon.

Like the moon determining the tides on shore. - My pain for you comes in swells.

It sinks back into the depths of me where I almost think it’s gone.
And then it crashes back to the surface far up my beaches.
Destroying my sand castles.
Erasing all progress I made while it was away.
It mocks my efforts.
Pulling them back to the depths of the dark floor.

Like a wise woman once said, “Let us forget, with generosity, those who cannot love us.”

So I will try to forget you.
I will try to stop dreaming about you.
I will try to stop caring about you.
I will try to stop loving you.
I will try my hardest, to forget.

I want to know if you think about getting better for me.
I want to know if you think about me at all.

I keep having vivid dreams about you.
Almost every night.
Last night I had one that felt so real.
I was telling you how heartbroken I was and you were blowing it off, like you didn’t believe me.

Then you said:
“It’s dumb for someone like you to be that heartbroken about a guy like me.”

Was it actually just my subconscious or maybe it was something else, could it be real? Were we communicating on a dream plane?

When it happened I had so many things to say to you.
So much hurt to express.
So much anger to share.
I wanted to shove the intensity of my rejected love down your throat so you’d have to feel the whole of what you were turning away.
Like a large piece of steak being forced down.
I wanted your esophagus to ache with what you had to swallow.

I don’t have words now.
I know now you’ll never feel the entirety of my love.
You’ll never know the depth of my hurt.
No amount of words will make you feel the ache I do.

No one is immune.
No drug will cure it.
No philosopher can properly describe the disease.
No scholar can logic away the infection.
It gets us all, eventually.