Her...

You talk about her like her touch is still imbedded into the fibers of your skin. Her presence feels tattooed into your heart and you know what they say, tattoos are permanent. I am trying to constantly scrub away a memory of a person I have never even met, but you have. You have touched her, loved her and maybe even have said some things you have said to me.

She feels like a ghost that follows my every move. Nothing is new because you did it with her. God you did it with her.... but I cant shame you. I have been touched and loved by people who were just a spec in my universe. She isn't a spec in yours though, she was your whole universe.

Why do I feel so threatened by someone who shouldn't mean anything anymore? Sometimes the picture of her touching your lips the same way I crave feels like a nightmare. But she hurt you, she's gone, she's your past and I am the future. Then why cant I let her ghost dissipate into nothing?

In the name of being honest its because you tell me that you loved her. Love ... A funny word with a monumental feeling wrapped around its letters. A word that I deem is only acceptable in your vocabulary when discussing me. It is hard for me to hear because I don't think she did love you not the way you loved her. I know how you love, the way your eyes light up and the way you crave a small touch. But you don't destroy people you love... but she did.

This ghost of a girl has ripped into the fabrics of reality and I am the fool who has fallen prey to her. But maybe it's just not me, he is gonna have to admit that she broke him. Made him weak and took a part of his self worth, admit that he allowed it from the beginning and in the end it of it all figure out that it was his lesson to learn and not mine. Life wouldn't have sent him the one when he wasn't ready.

She is not my ghost, she is his. I fully understand that she made a huge impact on his life but he was in love with an idea. Every thought of her aggravates him because she didn't care. She was his almost, his first and everything in between. But, I don't plan on being his almost nor do I need to be the first when I am preparing to be his last.