I bet I can make you want me back so hard your chest hurts I can make you fucking burn for me you cunt witch. I can walk into a room and make you need to look away because how nervous you are to see my face, and all you remember is things like making dinner with each other quietly and having your leg resting over mine when sleeping cause it was too hot to press against each other. Miss me the way I miss you and when we were both really excited to tell each other about almost passing out at hot yoga or scavenger hunts for grades in class, and sometimes being under a fort, summer time, cuban restaurant, kicking that can in the street, 3am probably, no kissing, just suggestions. It’s weird because the memories make me so plainly mad but then they calm me, like I am watching a boringly clarified independent film about love lost. Then I don’t really feel anything at all, so that’s good.
you aren’t important, you not wanting me has made you important. I am so excited not to secretly want to lick anything on you again. how dare you treat me like nothing, you are nothing, you ugly vagina idiot bitch.