I hated the way you stuttered when you told your jokes.
I hated the way your eyelashes hid your chocolate irises.
I hated the way your arms looked ready for embraces.
I hated the way the paint clung to your steady fingers.
I hated the way you sat next to me on my couch, too far to touch but close enough for static to build.
I hated the way your hair always looked perfect even when you’d just woken up.
I hated the way you drew pictures of our inside jokes.
I hated the way your voice and your name could always rush my heartbeat until it sped out of control.
It’s 1:34am and I hate the way I don’t hate you enough for ruining my memories, because I didn’t despise those things as they were happening.
It’s 1:36am and I can’t find the right words to describe how much it hurt when we drifted apart.
It’s 1:37am and I’ve gotten good at pretending I’m better off without your smile.
It’s 1:38am and I can’t sleep because your goddamn face is burned into my fucking eyes and your laugh is deafening as it’s ringing in my ears and I can still feel your last damn hug in my lungs and I hate you so much and
It’s 1:39am and for some reason I’m still writing about you even though we’ve been over and done and maybe this is a release and maybe it’s a letter to you saying that
It’s 1:41am and I still can’t find a way to hate you.
Anonymous said: Would you rather have fingers for eye lashes or eye lashes for fingers?
Eyelashes for fingers😂😂😂😂