"Do you want to talk about it?"
You asked me. No. I don’t want to talk about it. I want to turn my blood into vodka. I want my mind to forget your name. I want my soft hands to forget your rough ones. I want my lips to forget your body and my cheeks to forget the scratch of your stubble. I want to forget how you said my name and I want to forget the softness in your eyes when you looked at me and smiled. I want you to know that I noticed. I noticed when you stopped telling me you loved me. I noticed when you ignored me, it was so obvious you didn’t want me there. I noticed when you no longer wanted to touch me or hold me and kissing me turned into a chore. I knew it was over for you, but darling, it wasn’t over for me for a long time after you said your last goodbye.