Written it.

I tell myself I'm a big girl, and that I can get threw anything, and get over anyone. But I'm starting to realize just how not true this is about me. I've spent the last year, and some many months, attempting to get over you. To stop thinking about you. To stop making it hurt when I see you. To make it so I know your not the one who was mine, anymore. But lately, you've been popping into my life more then ever since then. And when I'm with you, I can see a glimmer of who I used to love still inside of you. I'm trying to keep you away, because I'm so afraid of that, I know I still love you, and it's killing you. Please can't you go back away? I love having you near, I missed you so much. But know I don't know if I can handle it. Please if you love me, stop showing up in my life, please make it so my chest stops hurting with missing you. I still love you, even if I'd thought I'd stopped loving you. I wonder if I ever could. Anyway this one is an ode to you. I love you, I wish you'd written it down.

I think back now, and I wish you'd written it.

I wish that every message between us, had been physical.
Instead of digital.
I love the digital age, because I know I will never loose all those notes.
I will have them forever, always there when I want them, and even when I don't.
Because I don't have the heart to delete them.
I wish they'd been written though.
Wish I could see the crossed out words, so I could muse about you thinking of what to say.
So I could touch the indents on the paper, and know your hand scrawled across it.
So I could see the stains from my dried tears, and remember the first emotions I had when I first read those words.
So I could have touched it, traced those words over and over, until they were barely legible.
With your handwriting it wouldn't have taken to long.
I wish I could have thrown it back at you.
Told you I don't accept this, and forced you to take it back.
I wish it'd been something physical, so I could trick myself into thinking you loved me.
Instead of this digital copy, which I read so coldly, because it is so detached.
I wish you'd written it, and given it to me.
Maybe then you could have still loved me.