i'm sorry for what i did

when you drove me

fucking

crazy.

except

you

will never hear those words

out loud

darling,

you don't deserve it.

but i do deserve to forgive myself.

i think a lot about my dad who taught me how to build the strongest walls; that constructing a stone face would convey my fortitude and power; that weakness was the gasoline that made the world go up in flames. i learned to be a jerk instead of getting hurt, and now i understand why i always fall for assholes.

i learned to love a man who did not want to touch my feelings, let alone his own; i held in high regard the man who had no idea how to. i crave approval from the person who never wants to see me struggle, since sarcasm and a shovel can bury any chance i might. and i'm addicted to the way we both pretend that nothing hurts. we've built a tall and sturdy fortress around our piles of upturned dirt.

what my father never taught me was how to take these stone walls down. nor have i ever learned the way to burn my lover's to the ground.

i've been making up this love between us. i've crafted it from scratch, stitching together every crooked smile with the line i thought i could hook you on. i should admit i'll never see you again. i should decide that i don't even want to. but it's always the loves like this that tear me up the most. it's the ones i never had. i will never call you mine and i never really could.

and yet i keep you tucked tightly inside my pocket. out of sight and out of mind, but everyone knows i'm kidding myself. i can't forget that you're still there. i can feel you burning a hole through the denim and sinking straight into my blood. you're coursing through my body, pumping strong into my heart; my already-broken-heart.

i've never been good at giving things up. what if i need you again? what if you ever admit you want me the way that i want you?

why do i even want you to?

i hope some day i find these jeans crumpled and dirty in the back corner of my closet. i hope that i reach into this ripped back pocket to discover that i lost you somewhere along the way. and i hope when that day comes i won't even think of shedding a tear. i hope by then, losing you won't feel like a loss at all. i hope i'll be able to say i never really loved you anyway. i hope that i concede i am happy to be rid of you. i do not need to keep you. you never needed me.

i should take these jeans off right now and this time, not for you. i should strip every trace of you off of me and promise to never even try to pick you up again.

i am

still

hungover

three days later,

but the liquor

has nothing to do with it.

my misery

comes from

only

you

and all i want to do

is be

drunk

again.