Does it make you happy that someone just can't wash the memory of you out of their head? Because I told myself I would dissolve your essence in my system. I told myself I wouldn't waste a drop of ink or a single letter for someone I know isn't coming back.

The thought of you is toxic. Every cell in my body is yearning for you to haunt me again. And here I am, writing a poem that you will never, ever, read. I don't even know if you know about this account. Hell, I don't even know if you know I still make poems. I told myself I'd stop writing about you. But every emotion that  triggers a wave of poetry throughout my body is caused by you.

And no matter how much it hurts to do nothing but hope your name appears on my phone again, there is no place in this world I'd rather be than to wait here for you.