i have no idea why i continue to torture myself with the thoughts of you touching someone else. i think about it
over
and over
and over
and o
              v  
                     e
                           r
again
i don’t know why i choose to think of the best parts of you, the best parts of us, when you asked where the knife was and i told you the kitchen. (not thinking you’d use it on me)

i feel like i’m losing grip of things. of myself. and over and over i choose to think of these things that hurt me most.