F

To be honest,
I can't forget you.
Fuck.
It's like every second of the day,
I find you inside my head.
I hate this.
The worst feeling
is this:
knowing I could still say "I love you"
and mean it, say it with all the honesty in the world
and knowing you could never say it to me,
knowing I'd never hear you say it back with honesty.
Knowing that while I'm suffering,
you shamelessly move on.
I'm not saying moving on is bad,
not in the least...
but why the fuck did you, could you
do that so fast?
It hurts.
That while I'm in pain,
you go on.
You go on happily,
dandily.
Fuck.
I want you out of my head.
Damn it.
I want you out of my head already.
I hate myself,
hate myself for still loving you,
when I don't even want to anymore.
I hate myself,
hate myself for still checking my cellphone everyday,
hoping,
wishing,
waiting.
FUCK.
This wasn't supposed to happen like this,
I never wanted it to end this way.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
No no no.
I can't forget,
I remember
every detail, every little thing.
Ask me anything(ANYTHING)
and I could tell you,
oh,
oh so easily.
Screw this all.
I'm fed up with our memories,
fed up with everything I know about you.
Fed up with these things.
My heart is still breaking,
this awful aching.
I miss you,
I won't even lie,
not even to myself.
I miss you.
FUCK.
FUCK.
And FUCK again.

Wisher

I wish it wasn't like this,
but wishing seems to be everything I do lately.
I don't even have strenght to smile,
I feel like I'm falling to pieces,
and the mirror confirms it.
I wish this had never happened,
I wish I could still call you mine.
I know I'm a fool.
But I don't even give a shit about it anymore.
All I know is that
wishing isn't enough.
Wishing has no paths,
no roads,
all it meets is dead-ends,
dead-ends.
Wishing couldn't bring you back,
couldn't fix this,
could never mend my broken heart.
And I'm afraid,
oh,
I'm so afraid...
that neither can I.
I'm so afraid.
And it hurts.
It hurts to feel all this pain,
it's driving me insane.
The best part is I don't need it,
I just want it.
And I'm so scared
it's not in me to bring you back.
And maybe a small part of me acknowledges
it's not in me.
But another part beats it,
a big part of me, in me.
Because I have faith,
if only a little,
the smallest amount of it.
Because I want it to be in me.
I'll force it if I must.
Because even if I don't get to call you mine again,
I don't think I even care if I never call you mine again.
All I know is
this isn't the way I want the story to end.
And I'll do everything, perhaps anything
to change the ending.