Nov 2018
I hate you right now
I told you I hoped you would find someone who loves you just as much as I do. But the truth is that’s never going to happen.
I hope when you kiss someone else for the first time you feel the emptiness and think of me.
I hope you remember my fingers trailing light down your cheek.
I hope you feel my hands brushing love through your hair.
I hope you smell my hair and feel my skin.
I hope you will kiss her and wish for my soul to connect with yours.
I hope she’s never enough for you.
And when you have *** with her for the first time I hope you remember my body.
I want you to see clearly in your head how it was yours.
How every curve of my hips and line drawn down my waist belonged to you.
I want you to remember you threw it away.
I want you to see how my smile belonged to you too.
And as you’re with her and you run your hand down her body I want you to feel how she’s not as warm as I was.
How her heart didn’t reach out for you like mine did.
How when you kiss her neck you don’t feel the urge to leave a mark because truly she isn’t yours.
And when you’re grown and feel the obligation of family I want you to remember me then too.
I want you to remember all the conversations we had about the future.
I want you to feel the guilt of playing out all those promises to another girl.
The same girl who isn’t yours.
The same girl who isn’t me.
She’s going to raise your family.
You are going to come home to her every night and it will never be enough.
She will never look at you and feel that tether to your heart like I did.
She will never answer the questions you’ve never asked.
And when you’re sitting there
In the living room of a house that doesn’t feel like home
I want you to remember what home feels like.
I want you to see that home was the blue in my eyes on a Monday night surrounded by Christmas lights.
I want you to see that home was the way I kissed you in a forest next to a highway.
I hope you remember home was the words I spoke in an elevator.
I hope you remember your home.
And I hope it kills you that you threw it away.
I told you I hoped you would find someone who loves you just as much as I do. But the truth is that’s never going to happen.
I hope when you kiss someone else for the first time you feel the emptiness and think of me.
I hope you remember my fingers trailing light down your cheek.
I hope you feel my hands brushing love through your hair.
I hope you smell my hair and feel my skin.
I hope you will kiss her and wish for my soul to connect with yours.
I hope she’s never enough for you.
And when you have *** with her for the first time I hope you remember my body.
I want you to see clearly in your head how it was yours.
How every curve of my hips and line drawn down my waist belonged to you.
I want you to remember you threw it away.
I want you to see how my smile belonged to you too.
And as you’re with her and you run your hand down her body I want you to feel how she’s not as warm as I was.
How her heart didn’t reach out for you like mine did.
How when you kiss her neck you don’t feel the urge to leave a mark because truly she isn’t yours.
And when you’re grown and feel the obligation of family I want you to remember me then too.
I want you to remember all the conversations we had about the future.
I want you to feel the guilt of playing out all those promises to another girl.
The same girl who isn’t yours.
The same girl who isn’t me.
She’s going to raise your family.
You are going to come home to her every night and it will never be enough.
She will never look at you and feel that tether to your heart like I did.
She will never answer the questions you’ve never asked.
And when you’re sitting there
In the living room of a house that doesn’t feel like home
I want you to remember what home feels like.
I want you to see that home was the blue in my eyes on a Monday night surrounded by Christmas lights.
I want you to see that home was the way I kissed you in a forest next to a highway.
I hope you remember home was the words I spoke in an elevator.
I hope you remember your home.
And I hope it kills you that you threw it away.
