Better Forgotten

I don’t want to miss you but I do. I don’t want to remember who you are but I can’t forget and I know it’s wrong but you’re just a drug I never forgot the ecstasy of.

Do you ever think of me?

That question ponders through my mind each time I think of silly things like stupid jokes or if I look at the light skin complexion you possess.

I hate it you.

I hate the image of you that sits embedded inside my skull, the thoughts of your hands caressing me softly but yet I don’t miss you.

Funny how it all turns out, how you remain alone macking as you do, too cocky to settle down and bathe in the love of a woman, such as myself, who could provide you. I laugh at thoughts of being your wife or carrying your child because, as God breathes air into my body, I now know it was never meant to be, for that I’m glad.

Every now and then my mind ponders and I stray back into thoughts of you loving me only to be reminded and awaken by the present thought of Alex loving me more than you ever could.

I am not ashamed of ever being with you but I am ashamed for ever holding on to your memories, memories I hold dearly to my heart but slowly I release them from my grasps in order to fill those empty spaces with the love and new memories of my soul mate.

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1 Comment

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