Where did the love go.
It’s not a question; it’s just my mind wandering back to you for the umpteenth time.
If matter is neither created nor destroyed, that means it has to be here somewhere.
Maybe it’s here in the way I cannot pass the Green Line without thinking of you.
Maybe you see it in the sunset as the darkness settles into you again, except this time it’s not me wrapping my arms around you.
Maybe it’s at the bottom of my coffee mug as I finally learn to finish my own damn cup because you won’t be here to finish it for me; this is my story now.
Maybe your mind wanders to it whenever you see something green, and for a split second you think it could be me. Maybe it’s “fate 2.0.”
And maybe it’s right here with me, every time I close my eyes or during the moments when the world finally slows down enough to let me remember just exactly where I am — without you.
Maybe we each have a part of it and neither of us truly wanted to let go.
If I let my piece go into my lakes, do you think your ocean would keep it for you?
Would it wash up on your beaches, battered and bruised but so ready to be whole again?
Would you even pick it up or recognize me after all of this time?
Or would you let it rot with the rest of the trash plaguing our waters?
Every time my mind wanders to the bad that occurred between us, it makes me sick.
It makes me question everything I ever felt for you and if any of this was ever even real.
Sometimes it seems like you weren’t even real.
Is it possible to be just that alone to make up such a strong set of feelings?
Your arms around her.
You spending your lonely nights with her.
Everything I couldn’t be to you that you found in her.
I am wondering if I will ever be her.
Or maybe it was the opposite, and all you wanted was for her to be me.
Was she the reason you were afraid to touch me after awhile?
Was it the guilt that I wasn’t the only one making you wish it would all just stop?
Was I the reason you hid her from everyone?
Did I even cross your mind when you found her?
I think some questions are meant to be unanswered, just like some people are meant to be kept away.
Maybe next time you’ll carry a caution sign so the next one knows not to get too close.
It all makes me sick.
Do you feel it, too?