“Hi Stranger”

Poem

I spent years loving you.
I spent years grieving you.
I spent years losing myself to that grief.
And then, last week, you stood beside me and said “Hi Stranger”.

I cried because I knew that those minutes,
Back on the sofa,
Yet another sofa bed with you,
Would convince me it meant something.
Would convince me I meant something to you.

I fell as hard and as fast all over again.
Once again, I’m a burning Icarus.
Once again I’m trying to un-love you so that I can love myself.
I doubt it will work.

A piece of me…a whole chunk of me…doesn’t want to move on without you.
At least the pain, the constant pain, and loneliness, and self loathing means you happened.
Right?

Now who’s the psycho?
That’s psycho patter.

I’ve created a you just for me, in my mind,
Made of memories and imaginings and desires and a desperate longing to turn back time or jump it forward to when I’ve got my shit together and have become desirable and you’ve realised I was always the one...
I let my you hold me captive,
Held in stocks to be mocked.
I scream at myself,
“you deserve more!”
I hurl the words like rotten veg at myself, spitting with contempt.

I want more.
I want me back.
I want you.
I want you back more.

Like oil and water.
The tears on my cheek after sex remind me,
‘I want doesn’t get’.