I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with a smoker, that I had known better. It hurts to go outside because with every passing stranger who shares your bad habit I remember the taste of your lips. With every cloud of smoke I walk through I remember what it was like to walk up to you. I saw you 17 times on my way home last night.
I wish I could delete you from my life. That I would have the strength to press ‘unfollow’, to block your number, your social media. Every time I see the green little light next to your name and know you’re online, I want to message you. Every time I don’t, I feel a little stronger and a little more dead inside.
I wish for myself that I will meet someone new. Someone with whom the passion can burn just as bright, but who won’t accidentally light my paper soul on fire until only ashes are left behind.
I wish I didn’t hate the way you are happy. Part of me tries to be that woman who wants you to be happy, even if it is without me. But I am not. I guess I am selfish like that.
I wish my pride hadn’t kept me from telling you how much you mean to me. Maybe if I had, then you would have been gentler with my heart. Though I suspect you had an inkling and you just chose not to care.
I wish I could remember the bad just as much as the good. I think it would make things easier. If every time you hurt me was as present in my mind as the times you made me smile, well, maybe I would be over you by now.
I wish that I were over you by now. That it’s however long down the line from now when I can look back at what we had without struggling for air because your absence hurts so much.
I wish I didn’t have to get over you. I wish this weren’t the end.