I can still feel your touch like you’re pressed against my leg, even now. So careless and reckless with my fragile and cold body, all your warmth seeping into me and threatening to make me rise from the ashes and love you like a phoenix.

Again and again and again I turn myself to ash to escape you and again and again and again you cruelly, unwittingly, find my eternal flame.

You smile at me, a lot, so patient and kind and I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t think you would if I was transparent, if your smile could go right through me to the other side. I don’t think you would if you knew how much I love you even still, so willing to take your smile as a siren song and shipwreck the whole crew without a second thought.

I’m getting better, you know, fighting hard to crawl out of the same cave I’ve always been coming back to, way before you. But I can see some sunlight through the clouds and for once, you don’t control when it rains or shines.

That’s the definition of getting better, I know it is. So why is every single thing you do as sharp as an arrow to a heart I’ve been trying to **** all this time, another stone in my pocket as I debate drowning myself in the river?

You know, I don’t even like the city because of you. Because you hated your life with me so much, you get to relocate and start over. Burn down everything good about the time we spent together.

I’m green, so green all over, I know it. I don’t even miss you, but God, I hate Kansas City.

I want to hate him as much, too. I have it in me to do that. So willing to give into the darkest part of myself and blame you for it when I know it’s been there all along.

I can’t. I can’t hate him. Because he seems like everything I couldn’t be for you and I can’t hate you because you’ve always deserved to be with someone who could return your smile. Who you would smile for even if they were transparent and you could see through to the other side.

All I can really hope is that you’re not in love with him.

I loved you first, indeed.