It’s dark again, now, and midnight is a memory. I’m trying to distract myself, trying to keep myself awake – because every time I close my eyes I find you waiting there.
I wonder if you’ll read this, wonder if you’ll care. You never used to read the things I wrote. Love letters. Life letters. That was a thing you used to do to show me that the only thing that you could care for was the control you used to wield, to draw me in and shut me out, depending on your whim.
I wonder if you know how I long to hear you’ve died. I have to hope that if you have, you’ll be gone – at last – from behind my eyes. But I guess that’s not how it works, so instead you’ll be here for life, just like you always said, though it’s been years since you been around, still more years since everything was good.
I wonder if you understand that the more I want you gone, the more I want you here, laughing, joking, cutting lines – and beckoning the thread of sultry tunes and in-jokes shared and good times to be had.
I wonder, too, if the lies go on and she’s just another one to fall for them, to be cast aside once her money’s done. Will she stick around like I did and dig herself a hole of chaos and despair because she can’t escape your con? Will she know?
I wonder how many more will fall for you and all the pain that you will bring. I wonder if for just one day you’ll feel that pain like we do, too.
I wonder what would life be like if I’d never met you, never responded to the lure. I wonder what would life be now, if somehow, you were still here.
And if you died tomorrow, I wonder if I’d care.
I want you. I love you. I hate you and I want you to be gone. I’m done with giving you space where I’ve left none for me. I’m done with anger at everything you stole, and at everything you cost. I’m done with looking in the mirror and seeing you reflected there, in the sadness of the memories and all the shit we caused.
I have to ask our souls if this was everything they planned, if this lifetime was a lesson to be learned – and have I earned release? I can’t think that through this all I’ll want to see you again – not in this lifetime, not in any future lifetime – we’re done.
Because if this parasite version of you living in my head was the soul contract we agreed to, boy, we got it wrong. The constant grinding and the ever-present-ness of you is driving out everyone else and sapping up my life.
I wonder if you know, Cris, how much I wish I could undo you.
Please. Just go.
© Dave Luis 2019. All Rights Reserved.