Sometimes I imagine you walk past me with your middle finger in the air trying to get me to hate you.
Sometimes I do hate you.
But I know deep down its not hate, it’s a defense mechanism meant to try and cope with the loss that you enabled.
Its a hard form of love that I shouldn’t even hope to touch and you’re resigned to use it just so that I can forget how much I love you.
Unfortunately, my arms are wide open, hoping, waiting for you to come back into them and let me show you my heart.
But unfortunately I know that that won’t happen and I’m not going to chase you. And you know that it’s better to let me go on my way.
I walk with my hands in my pockets and my head poised toward the ground, dragging my feet slightly trying to hide the fact that I too am resigned; I too am hurt.