“Girl, I miss your face,” she said.
I don’t. I don’t miss you. Or rather, I don’t want to miss you.
I’ve spent too long trying to forget your smile, your skin, your scent, your taste.
And unwittingly, stupidly, arrogantly, idiotically, you pull a few simple words out of nothingness
And make my heart hurt just as much as it did when we first broke apart.
I hate you.
I hate what you’ve made me.
What you’ve done to me.
I wish you’d leave me alone.
I wish I knew how to forget you.