Mad at You

I’m mad at you. I’m mad that you consume me. I tore us, I damaged us, I ripped up the seams and burnt the edges and I still can’t move on. I couldn’t wait to get away and now I can’t breathe this far away from you. The unspoken connection and chemistry that words couldn’t hold a match to.  I need to separate myself from this. How does one divorce an emotional connection? The greater question is do I need that connection with my next lover. Once you have that do you learn to love without it and learn to stop longing for it. It there a time when I will stop wanting every person i encounter to have that ability to stare into my soul….and if they don’t I will stop believing that I don’t love them enough. That is not fair and such a gamble. Am I addicted to our sadness? Am I addicted to the drama of experiences and the efforts I love to partake in that made us cry. 

Every song, smell, city, and emotional that reminds me of my use-to-be’s is held up high on a thorn of love. The sentimental value, heart-beat, and mental state comes back and I time-travel to that place where you were mine. Where everything we did was a first and where I grew up and learned about myself in your arms. Now I have to strong along, I have to talk myself out of my head, I have to rise up and learn how to love without you holding my hand. Do I feel so grateful to you that I feel I owe you my future happiness? I live in memories where the power is held. Like they were windows into where I could have changed a path and I made a decision. How did I created this life thinking you were gone out of my heart. One day I woke up and yelled at you for not leaving me alone. I haven’t seen your face in more than 2 years but yet I feel your presence everyday. I’m so mad at you. I need to move on but I don’t know what that means when it comes to you. 

I can’t remember anything bad all I remember is your hear beat and the silent love. I’ve told myself that we are locked spirits but we couldn’t figure out how to human together. This enables me to make sense of the shit I did to you. This makes sense somehow and yet you don’t leave my brain. I don’t want to confess that I still love you because I don’t know if that’s true. Maybe I am addicted to what you did to my life? Maybe I’m shifted by the windows you opened up for me? Maybe I’m heartbroken that I broke your heart. Maybe love has nothing to do with it. Maybe I believe that if I let go of the love petastool that I’ve created for you that I will lose everything I gained because you loved me.