“Writing love poems at midnight is not where you need to be” I’d told myself-
And then I did it anyways.
Now I’m crying on the couch at one-thirty in the morning over my favorite ghost,
Without an ounce of regret over the decision that set that fire.
I needed you-
But not in the way I needed most people.
I needed the reminder of gentleness.
The glimpse into what good was again.
I even needed to lie on the remnants of healthy heartbreak-
A severe contrast to what I’ve known for years.
And the kindness you left me with almost hurts more-
What do you mean you didn’t destroy me before you disappeared?
You could’ve at least said SOMETHING insulting.
I hope you find a way to disable the button in your brain that turns you invisible;
Your soft curls deserved to be touched.
Your hands deserved to be held.
You deserved to be seen the way you saw me.
“Writing love poems at midnight is not where you need to be right now” I’d written-
And I did it anyways because it was where we had deserved to be.
Our phantoms just wouldn’t let us.
