It Burns.

It burns.
And I shower to make it stop but all I can think about is the touch of his skin against mine.

Why, why, why does my body ache under the weight of the water?
Will I ever feel clean again, the fragile hair on my arm sticks up against the cool night air of my empty flat.

Why, why, why does it remind me of him? The way it feels to be completely intertwined.
I catch myself in the mirror smiling like a fool.

Stop it, you stupid girl. He doesn’t love you.

Why, why, why does he make me smile but make me cry in the shower? Alone in the dark, while I’m trying to sleep, while I’m listening to music. Why?!

I punch the mirror, my hand bleeds, the same blood that pours from my veins runs through his. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think this way.

Why, why, why does he make me bleed the same wound? Why, why, why doesn’t he care about me?

And I dress, force myself to comb my wet knotty hair, force myself to cover my wound with make up.

Why, why, why do I have bruises that I never noticed before?
Stay. He loves you.

And it burns.

My feet sting on the cold tiles, barefoot and cold. He always used to be so warm.

Why, why, why does he echo around in my head? His sweet song replaying itself over and over again no matter what I do. I stand still, I run, I hide, I scream but I can not drown him out, he keeps smiling and singing to me over and over again the same melody as before.

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

I rip the sheets off of my bed, I need him gone, the smell of him is everywhere, contaminating my resting body.

New sheets.

I need a new bed.

I lay on the clean sheets and I still smell him, his song still sings.

Why, why, why can’t I forget him? I cry.

Because you are in love with him.