is it really the middle of may? already? has it really been seven months since you touched me last?
people still come to me and tell me about you. and you know. this shit hurts like a bitch. that they know i still care. that they know i still think about you from time to time. sometimes when i am driving with my windows down my heart wants to listen to kendrick lamar’s LOVE. but i tell it it can’t. it can’t do that until it can listen to it and not think of you.
i can still feel that slow fucking smile against mine. you know the way our lips were so right together. i know you know that, you were the one who pointed it out. i can still feel those hands. those legs. those smooth motions you always used to do when we were kissingthisfuckingsucks. youfuckingsuck. i used to think how the fuck is she not over him yet when my friend would tell me about you months after you left her. shit.
and you know what else sucks seeing you on instagram stories wearing my shit wearing your glasses wearing your black longsleeves ohmygod i used to kiss the back of your ear and say “you should wear a black longsleeve everyday” and i’m happy to see you listened to me. wearing your high socks with janoskis. god damn if i ever saw you one last time i don’t think i’d be capable of working up the words to say i hate you.
ihatetheway you make me feel like loving you was the only thing i was good at. i hatetheway you make my words move so easily i hatetheway you hide your words from me i hatethe way you’re so scared. i just wanted to love you god damnit. i just wanted to love you. youshould’veletmeloveyou you should’ve let me kiss the backs of your shoulders even though you’re ticklish there. you should’ve let me meet your mom. you should’ve let me in. you should’ve let me love you the way i have to do quietly because you won’t allow me to do it loudly.
i’m scared that years from now this feeling will still be there. goddamnit matt just fucking talk to me. i don’t ask for much. i never did.