i am afraid to see you,
because i am afraid you will covet parts of me
that i have cultivated on my own.

the color yellow,
regina spektor and ukeleles, blazers and old dogs.
pieces of you embedded in me.

yours.

but mine are sunny days, and glittery pop music
the way i drive my green car too fast
and my red lipstick

my habit of singing reckless harmonies
to the songs on the radio
going away to college and dyeing all my hair pink.

mine.

i don't want to see you.
because harmonizing with you means losing something that i found on my own, and leaving my red lipstick on your face--and we both know it will come to that-- will only leave my lips pale and wan and you telling me to slow down means that i will never drive alone again and whether you tell me that i should or should not dye my hair and run away i will do the opposite just to spite you and not for the happiness that is finally mine.

and *******, you do not get to galavant back into my life with your
"Happy birthday! <3"
and your
"I'll be in town this weekend, can I see you?"
and run my life again with your manipulative *******
that i learned to absorb into my bloodstream,
or spit back into your face
because i had to get rid of you

i don't want you to know what my new favorite book is.
or about that one movie that i've watched of my own accord more than once
or the song that makes me cry about the future because these things are mine. I do not belong to you anymore and I will never belong to you again so long as my heart is my own and if i have to give up seeing you forever to make that so, then so be it.