Questions Are Bitter

The question on my mind throughout the days is, “why can’t I let you go even though I know you don’t love me anymore?” Just tell me that it’s over so that I can lick the blood from my wounds. The taste in my mouth won’t be as bitter as the longing in my heart for an unrequited love. “Does he think about me? Is he scared to open his heart again?” What’s the point of questioning when the bitterness is all I taste? I lost a love that was better than most, its full potential buried under the rubble of past lovers and past trauma. I thought often of the hope in reuniting as better men together. I would do anything to support the work he’s doing in himself. Maybe the best love that I can give to him is a love longing from afar. I think about you all the time. Do you ever think about me too? When will my love for you see its final days? When will the bitterness turn into a gentle sweetness? When the old love I’ve held onto is buried with the old me. Why won’t he love me anymore?