It's so hard looking at you.
I think you know. It's almost palpable-- you'd have to be quite daft not to see it. At first you were kind and spared me with avoidance. It was nice, it was mutual, it was safe. Anymore, you say "f**k it" in that way that you do (and always where I can hear you, I've noticed) and walk directly towards me. You'll sit in on group conversations no one invites you to. You'll sit directly across from me and make me squirm. You'll make the most uncomfortable eye contact and I'll spend every god dämn moment wishing I didn't exist. Each time you stay just long enough to be a bother. Just long enough to make me know that you exist.
Then you'll calmly get up and leave with much splendor and grace. And I'll still be there wishing I was anywhere but there, because you make my heart sad just by existing in the same room as I do.
I wish you could've loved me. I wish I didn't love you.
I wish I could go back in time and feel your body against mine again. The world is far colder without you next to me in it.