she lit a fire, and now she’s in my every thought.
I miss you and I believe in my stomach that you miss me too, but I wish we missed each other in the same way. I wish you weren’t weird and I wish I wasn’t weird and I wish we could be friends…
But you were a learning experience, and we both said goodbye, and it was the end for now, and probably forever.
I don’t love you anymore, because you aren’t the you whose intricacies I have engraved in my skin, whose kisses cover me like a moth-eaten blanket. You’re different now. The callouses I sloughed away over months of unprecedented softness, intimacy, are there again, thicker. And you treat me like some splinter, trying to make you bleed. Maybe I rubbed you too raw, before… but you were my first. I didn’t know any better.
You were a learning experience. I wish you wouldn’t hold that against me.
I miss you.>