There are still so many nights where I spend my time wishing you would just come back.
Willing you to walk back into my life,
In hopes that you’ll destroy it.
One night, I finally forced myself to sit with the lights on, so I actually had to fucking face it all.
You. My trauma. My recovery.
You again and again and again.
You on repeat tearing me down, helping me up, and then pushing me even further than before.
Your empty apologies and cold promises of a future you knew I didn’t want.
All of the things that make you, you.
I don’t know how I ever looked into your eyes and saw love.
I look at them now, and all I feel is a knot in my stomach and pain in my chest.
And that is just from looking at a photo.
Some nights, I think about what it would be like if I ever got to see you again.
Some nights, I dream about screaming at you out on the street.
But would I ever have the courage to do that?
Or would I just submit?
Again and again and again.
Because we are taught to always see the best in everyone
And the worst in ourselves.
So I tried and I tried and I tried to save you,
But all I did was lose myself.