Him

I dislike the fact that you still have an effect on my heart. That a simple smile from you could make my day just a little bit brighter. I have tried so hard to hate you, to make things easier. To forget you or cut you out completely. But like a recurring nightmare, you keep coming back to me. Picking me up when it’s convenient for you. I am the book with the dusted cover that you left on the shelf, that you opened but never read. All I want is to be read. For someone to open me up and examine every page with wonder. To crack the spine, smell the paper, absorb me. Find a place for me on your bedside table. Don’t just pick me up when you feel lonely. That is not what I am for. I have tried so hard to find the strength to tell you that I just can’t be around you anymore. It’s been 11 months, and though the pain doesn’t hurt so bad as it did back then, it is still present; a dull ache in the pit on my stomach that won’t go away. You used to weigh heavily on my heart, now you lay to rest at the bottom. Like a small stone in the hand of a child, you skipped along the surface before sinking into the murky waters, never to be seen again. There will always be a part of me that loves you, but I don’t have to like you, and I won’t. Leave me be. I can’t fight for this anymore and no I don’t want to be your fucking friend. Put me down and leave me there. I have grown too heavy for you to pick up.