You infuriate me. 
There. I said it. 
I want you to disappear. 
But you won't. 
And somehow I just can't seem to make you. 
You're in my photos.
You're still trampling uninvited through my thoughts. 
There are still traces of you in my bed. 
And sometimes if I fall too far into my memories I can still feel your body pressed against mine. 
These are the parts of you that linger. 
They are the parts that have stuck to me. 
They have worked themselves into my puzzle. 
But to my dismay, those are not all of the pieces to your puzzle. 
There are gaping holes and backwards parts. 
There are those shadows that you so carefully hid... the ones that I so carelessly fell into. 
They are the ones that take me down and thrash me about. 
And somehow I still find myself trying to fit us together. 
But some parts of that puzzle would never fit. 
Leaving our faults all too glaringly lit. 
And when this all comes to it's inevitable end, I'll welcome the horribly empty feeling of being right.