You've made me forget why I was so guarded,
+ you have made me forget how it felt
to be broken-hearted.
You've helped me remember how it felt to love,
+ you have helped me remember how one can feel
on cloud 9 + above.
But you see,
that was then + this is now.
Now everything is switched;
now everything is but a memory.
Your memories . . .
They're like toxic drugs:
they give me hallucinations of comfort + joy,
but they really hurt me, much more
than I already was.
Yet,
I choose to relive them in my head.
Your hugs. Your words. Your smile. Your scent.
Just please.
Please, make me forget you.
I do not want to remember.
I will not allow you to stay in me.
You made me remember what you made me forget
+ I did not see that coming.
My stupidity is no excuse.
You told everyone we were only "friends,"
so I suppose this is where that
"friendship," must end.
Because you're nothing.
Like a burnt-out flame or a forgotten memory.
You're nothing except history
that unfortunately had to repeat itself
for a reason I cannot explain.
But more importantly:
you're nothing to me.
Everyone knows history must happen
for us to learn
from the mistakes
from the past
so they will not reoccur.
But what you must understand is
this passage has happened to me
too many times + I'm afraid
I will never learn from my mistakes.
The only way out of this is to burn
the history book
or myself.
Which is easier?
I have not decided.