I Don’t Talk About You Anymore

I’m even starting to forget your name. Funny how close we once were before…before things swiftly changed. The end felt like whiplash. Like a sudden jolt. Forceful and unforgiving. One day you claimed to be in love with me, the next day you hated me. How I tried to restore what was left of our new, budding, relationship. I tried to salvage my place back in your heart. But it was blown apart, shattered into too many pieces. According to you, I brought it on myself. According to you, I’m to blame. According to you, I deserved the yelling, the screaming, the cursing. I wanted gentleness, tenderness, love, care, compassion. I wanted the guy I met in the beginning. The guy who bought me flowers, the guy who kissed me so gently, the guy who told me I was beautiful every day. The guy I fell for. I miss him sometimes. I want him back. But, I was forced to move on. Just like all the other times. I’m left without a choice but to pick up the broken pieces of my heart. I try to mend them back together but there’s no use. I may as well leave my broken heart scattered all over the South Bay. That way, it cannot be broken again.

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