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Nothing to say to you

I write and I erase. There used to be a time I used to think we were poetry and its words would just weave themselves into the manifesto of our love. As we parted, it transitioned into a ballad of my aching heart and now as it has finally sunk in, I know we were nothing but two bored souls not even in mutual attraction trying to force each other to give in to the personal whims, it was a tale of misery.

And so I try to forget that miserable tale, to forget ever meeting you and having to experience the burst of dopamine for the first time, to ever feeling your warm touch on my cold skin as I would melt into those arms, to forget ever gazing into those lying eyes and thinking how beautiful they were, to have ever kissed those manipulating selfish lips while I would forget the world around. I struggle every day, coming to terms with just how naïve and desperate I was and how blatant and seasoned you were.

But I try still, as I find purpose of different kind, as I immerse myself in pursuit of some other passion, until -  you swoop in , with your wile words talking back about that wretched past and lo, the walls shatter once again. I used to think of you as a person with compassion, used to blame myself for my misery after parting, I thought maybe you didn't know how much I loved you then, and you're completely unaware of how much it hurts me now. To my utter regret, I embarrass myself some more as I confess the lingering feelings, the one-sided attraction, hoping that you'd realize how hurtful your one text could be. But of course, you claim my confession as a trophy, unabashedly poking at it again and again keeping the wound still fresh.

You texted again yesterday. But I will not fan this anymore. This time I have nothing to say to you

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