Hurts

It hurts me to know you’re not doing well.

I am not doing well at all.

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Brooklyn

I really wonder how you’re doing.

Do you still drink coffee at that place on montrose we used to spend our weekends at?

Do you still eat 2 taro brioche buns with a mile long grin to follow?

Do you still take the same subway route?

What time do you catch the L train in the morning?

Do you still wear dark amber and ginger lily on your neck and 2 dabs of blackberry on your wrist?

Do you still have that bracelet I got you from Tokyo?

What about the record we bought together?

Do you still love my mind?

Would you ever love my whole again?

I wonder how you’re doing. I hope you’ve been fine.

Hope to see you again someday. I miss you.

My ex

used to tell me I was fat

every day.

Sorry

for being so

insecure.

The hurt

It’s not how he could hurt you in the first place, it’s how many times you let him.

Because

“Why did you call me?”

“Because I felt like talking to you. Hey can you do me a favor?”

Oh that’s why you called.

Gut

“It’s just a gut feeling.”

“How long have you been having this gut feeling?”

“Since we met.”

The shower is the only place I can cry without anyone hearing.

A million of my tears just washed down the drain.

“Gut feeling.”

55 

I wish we were taking out this mortgage for a place of our own. I wish we still spoke. I wish we still spoke of our plans to move in together. I wish you still loved me. I wish I could still feel your love. I can’t feel it anymore and I’ve never been so cold.

Sticky

Your words are sticky, dripping with gooey sugar crystals. They coat my throat, block my airways and choke my wind pipes.

I never get to eat sugar, it’s bad for my teeth you say. But sometimes you force it to me and it’s artificially saccharine. Like Splenda. I know it’s not good for me but I still like the taste. Only it’s slightly bitter.