“i’d be lying if i said
there wasn’t a countless number of times
where i told myself
i’m over you
just to soon realize
i wasn’t.
i’d be lying if i said
i was completely okay with being on my own and
i didn’t try to find solice in others.
i’d be lying if i said
i never succumbed to my longing
and would tell myself
maybe there was no way to get over you.
i’d be lying if i said
weeks and months wouldn’t go by
and yet i would still get hit with a wave of nostalgia
and it would be 2am
and while you were sleeping peacefully,
i would be soaking my pillow with i miss you’s.
i’d be lying if i said
sometimes seeing you with her
didn’t bring me back to the harsh reality that
now i’m not the one you were holding at night.
i’d be lying if i said
there weren’t restless nights
that i would close my eyes
and somehow still feel your touch lingering on my skin
and my nose captivated by your scent
and it would bring me peace.
i’d be lying if i said
it didn’t take months for me to realize
no matter how much time went by,
no matter how much growth you endured,
it would not take away the pain
you brought upon me for years.
i’d be lying if i said
it was only when the thought of us being together in the future that lingered
deep
deep
down
vanished,
did i finally realize i was over you.
i would be lying if i said
i’m still in love with you
and would most definitely
be lying if i said
i miss you.”
- excerpt from a book i’ll never write #73