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I thought you would get it, get me, but you only wanted to get in me. I remember those late night phone calls, I would constantly ask you what was so wrong with me, but you would just plead the 5th, asking for nudes. I wanted to give you it all, but my all was too much, not enough, just like so many other times. I remember lying on our backs reading books, I would rest my head on your shoulder. You were smitten, I was broken, we both decided we clashed the wrong way. We blamed time, but I blame myself and these past lovers, I keep them close to me, like you do your books on shelves.

Each memory a little more hurtful, but the pain is valuable in some way. Each lover taking a piece of me, just like so many other times.

How revealing the simple, the intimate,. The sound of rain as it graces the flowers,. The night when we were hidden by steam,. The Christmas lights that line the balcony. The piano you play that pulls me deep beneath water,. The laughter of children freely frenzying in the park. How the night sky residing within her locks.


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Dear Brett, thank you for teaching me that your lover can also be your best friend. Dear Drew, you were my first love. Dear Peter, i felt sexy and mature when i was with you; but after spending time with you i realized despite you being ten years older, you were no different than the boys at my school. Dear Robbie, thank you for being my best friend those two years. Dear Ryan P, that night will always be special. Dear Mike C, you were fun. Dear Kyle, you were always a sweetheart. Dear Tyler, the sex was really great.

Dear Ryan K, your timing was all wrong. Dear Eric, i liked your style and thought we could be like tate and violet. Dear Dylan, nobody has ever really cared about me the way you do. The pain caused by past lovers sometimes never heals. Days, months, years later, those words matter, those bruises still hurt.

What happened? What the hell do you want? You did!!! What pod? Are they okay? How many? Trust me. And four. The mother is healthy to, in a tank ready for shipment. Closing his hand around the wad of cash he stuck it in his pocket. I realize now. I did not love him. I loved the idea of love itself. You know a lot more about him than I do.

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Maybe you were together for a few years, or maybe your were best friends growing up. I do know that when I meet you, you always tell me things about him. His likes and dislikes.

How he likes his bacon in the morning. What his favorite drink is. I wish you would let me discover everything about him the way you did.

P.S. I Love You

I feel like you try and one up me and prove something to me and maybe even prove something to him. Prove that you knew him better and loved him more. Maybe you guys have stayed friends and we go on double dates now. By hard, I mean painful.

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I tell myself I get to see the raw side of him. Happy and sad. Then I remember you did as well. One that was twisted deeper and deeper all night. Maybe you did mean it to hurt, just a quick jab. I just know that I have to focus on being his future rather than dwelling in his past. Sometimes I do long to hide myself away in a permanent refuge of sheets and warmth, untouched by the world around me.

The ghost of lovers past

At other times I wish I could peel myself like a piece of fruit, just cutting away all the layers, to reveal my core more gently. It has a skin, just as a human being does. I know, there are times we all wish we could physically be something else, that we could shed our skin like a snake has the ability to do. I know all too well we seek to become free of the memories that remain imprinted in those days that we were first touched, by people, by nature, by the very air that dances in the atmosphere running across us, and then along someone else.

These days so many things start with a bang, and end with a slow fizz or a static shock that shakes your insides. I would say there is a vulnerability attached to that. In fact, I feel vulnerable more often than not. Still we are all so lonely. Lonely when we eat, getting another plate out for someone who used to droop their smile into our bowl of cereal and feed it to us for breakfast. Lonely for the moment when she first spread her legs like the Grand Canyon, and he was the only tourist on her check list.

Lonely for the way during that deep conversation, he spoke aloud and she caught his voice and kept it safe. It requires testing our abilities to give and take, and being able to know what it is that we want. Before the end of last year, during those months that I had to commute out of area regularly, the route would lead me past your street. I remember the early mornings and late afternoons in the park, the remnants of that summer. I made notes of the colour the sky was during those days. It was only after I woke up in that hotel room, I realised what it meant to be truly alone, even if you had the majority of what you wanted.


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Limitations still existed, obstacles still remained, and there are only so many times you can flick through the channels with a remote before you have to face it. In those seemingly torturous 48 hours, uncertainty became my best friend. That hands had the power to create, but also the power to destroy, and I needed to understand what that truly meant. I know that to completely force myself to forget you would be cruel, but nobody hands you another option until you can replace that periodic cruelness with a less heavy weight of remembrance.

I will learn, in time, to deal with delicate things in more ways than folding myself in-between each door that closes. Sa sarili ko naman, parang OO. Parang WALA rin. Hindi nman nagtapat yung lalakeng yun.

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Tapos nung naglakas-loob siya na magsabi, may gf na siya nun. Hindi ko alam kung bakit ko ginagawa to pero diko mapigilan sarili ko na tingnan ang facebook page niya after malaman na naalala pa pala niya ako. Ang saya-saya lang ng mga pictures nila.