I’m sorry you had to scrub your skin raw to get rid of any trace of me. I’m sorry that I can’t keep my feelings to myself, and that you can’t stand to hear them. But the truth is your face is on repeat in my mind, and to you I am only an echo of what could have been. Something to be forgotten and pushed aside on account of time and fresh opportunities. I’m sorry I can’t put this down, and just forget about you like you’ve forgotten about me. You’ve left an impression in my mind, and a bruise on my heart that I keep pressing, hoping you’ll somehow feel the same pain and come running.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
I’m sorry you had to scrub your skin raw to get rid of any trace of me. I’m sorry that I can’t keep my feelings to myself, and that you can’t stand to hear them. But the truth is your face is on repeat in my mind, and to you I am only an echo of what could have been. Something to be forgotten and pushed aside on account of time and fresh opportunities. I’m sorry I can’t put this down, and just forget about you like you’ve forgotten about me. You’ve left an impression in my mind, and a bruise on my heart that I keep pressing, hoping you’ll somehow feel the same pain and come running.
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