A Book I'm Going to Write

Forget the good; the smell of his skin, the anticipation of his kiss, the nights spent under the stars, the hour-long drives and hands continuously interlocked, the breathless exchange of I love you's and forevers and onlys, the hearts carved in foggy car windows.

Fuck the good.

Remember the disinterest and the boredom.
Remember his face twisted in expressions of annoyance, of frustration, and anger, and hatred.
The way his eyes look through you, straight past you as though you are no longer worth looking at.
Remember the nights that you clutched your pillow as tears poured over your sheets.
All the times you closed your car door only to instantaneously shatter across the dashboard, vision blurred as you desperately tried to find your way home.
Remember his words- thrown out like darts with no aim.
"What's your problem" knocks the air our of your lungs.
"There is no long term" stabs you from behind.
Remember the silence that follows each time, the way he makes it clear that you are no longer worth words in any form. You have served your purpose and will no longer occupy his time.
Remember the emptiness in his eyes- or rather, the absence of love, of any form of affection.
They are cold and blank and expressionless and you can almost see yourself- can barely recognize yourself- in their reflection.

Remember the bad. All the moments that you knew; its only bad now, the good is gone.