occasionally, i get a pulse of hope
i really have to face this, don't i?
the residual discomfort from our breakup.
i'm stationary like a bereft room in a heartbreak hotel.
it's all full and cozy until the occupant disappears once again, just as quickly as they arrived.
thought that you would live within me forever but now you're gone.
my feelings for you fluctuate like the temperature.
uncomfortably heated, with anger and considerable upset
contrast with ice cold, a broken AC that won't stop blowing Arctic fucking air
you left me with wrinkled sheets, balled up tissues, crumbs of food on the floor.
after storing all your shit away safely, you take your luggage and walk the fuck out.
yet, in my mind, we live inside the tiny shampoo bottles that are tossed away after every guest finishes their vacation.
there's still something left, still more than half full, but it gets discarded anyways without second thought.
i couldn't help but wonder where you're off to, who'll you'll be staying with next.
oh i should've known your flight was a one way ticket, booked for the hotel of fucking idiocy.
----
i miss my first ex more.
who treated me right.
who all the rants were about at first.
back when "hollow" and "enraged" weren't part of my poems.
maybe one day i find the courage to reach out to him again.
and all of the happy memories become a reality
your jagged rocks become a diamond ring
and suddenly i'm laughing in my 40's, thinking about how ri-goddamn-diculous this whole charade was...
but i still give a fucking fuck about you
and it's clear you don't (even though you seem very interested with my "life")
so i ignore you and act like i'm just fine after taking months of social media hiatus.
i mean, you never checked in to see how i was, you're not even a friend anymore.
you didn't want to "hurt me" with your new "relationship".
but you wanted me to know you discovered you liked having your ass grabbed.
you always have to be the victim, or the righteous one, right?
why i am i even bothering to ask a question to a man who thinks he's above the law and every other human being.
call me the cunt, but i think it's fucking hilarious that sometimes, you listen to sad breakup songs.
occasionally, i get a pulse of hope that you finally feel the brunt of your own actions, and you miss me like hell
