I sat down today, the music blasting in my ears drowning out all the outside noise, I sat down to write out a paragraph that I’ve been meaning to send to you, for you, about you.
I wanted to ask why I was so easy to throw away as if the last two months had meant nothing.
I wanted to ask bravely if you still had some love for me.
I wanted to ask if you woke up today hardly being able to breathe, reaching out to touch me in your half asleep state.
I wanted to know if you had missed me at all today while I’ve been missing you since the moment you walked away from me in the parking lot of your apartment building.
I wanted to know if you find yourself spaced out between this morning and right now, wondering how the hell you got to eight in the evening.
I needed to know if you still think there’s a slim chance that we will meet again one day, when you’re better and I’m happier.
I sat down today, my fingers floating over the keyboard but I couldn’t find it in myself to ask those things.
Truth is, you’re back to being the stranger, but all of the hurt you gave me stayed. You’re just a stranger with all these memories.
I miss who you were.