051017

It's been three days. I shouldn't be upset, because you're just doing what I asked you to do, but part of me hoped you would love me enough to break the rules. Or at least I hoped you wanted it enough to tempt fate. Wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong about you.
My mother tells me I'm gullible. She won't let me forget that you are a poison. Her words fill the empty space with assertions that I'm just too soft for people like you. I've been sheltered my whole life, and she knows exactly how to take advantage of that. And I have to admit, I really thought you had changed at first. Now my name drips out of your mouth like the disgusting things you use it for. Everyone told me what a good influence I was for you. But they never considered that you could corrupt me with your voice.
Your absence stings. The lengths you go to in order to avoid me are so monumental I could place them in a museum. Still, after all this hurt and suffering, I find comfort in your way of existing. I shouldn't want you, and some part of me doesn't. But the part that fell in love with you from the start tells me I'm letting a good thing go, even though we both know it was never good to begin with.
So I'm proud to say that I haven't cried in your absence. My heart, never fully healed, doesn't have room to fit you in. I deserve so much better than your cigarette laced breath and your imagined entitlement to my body. It's only been three days, but they've been the best days I've had for a while.