Did We Choose to Live a Lie?
I felt like you were mine
the first time we locked eyes.
This was before we exchanged
names and smiles.
It was even before I heard your voice.
I felt like we were born
to feel a bizarre
connection
and didn't have a choice.
I was alright with that.
After an awkward
staring contest,
cheesy conversation,
and a shy kiss
you became my walking fantasy.
You could have been an evil person,
but I didn't care.
It was the first time
I felt my heart leave my chest
without going anywhere.
I didn't love you.
I didn't plan to.
I just wanted you for one reason.
The only word I can use
to describe our next few encounters
is "crazy".
I went crazy.
You went crazy.
The details are hazy
up to the point
you told me you had a lady.
That is where you should've
lost respect from me.
You didn't plan on telling me,
I had to ask.
And after all the things
we had already done,
I was in too deep.
By this time you could weaken my knees
effortlessly.
I was willing to cave
fearlessly.
I'm not sure who
was living in my body.
After the initial shock of finding out
about your girlfriend,
I wasn't mad,
I wasn't disappointed,
and for that
I was ashamed.
I wasn't put off by you.
I had never been that girl,
but you were the exception
not the rule.
You were the reality
not the truth.
Yet and still I focused
on building distance
between us.
It was only lust.
I didn't miss you at all,
I knew you wouldn't call,
and I hadn't lost anything.
How did we get here?
It's two months later.
We haven't spoken
or seen each other.
I should have walked out
the moment I noticed
you at the bar.
Instead, I ignored you
a failed attempt at being strong.
I avoided eye contact
like an idiot.
When you initiated
conversation,
we locked eyes and
I was right back
in the same spot
I was in the night we met.
I don't know who I am right now.
My morals fade in and out
and I'm out of touch
with myself.
When I run,
you find me.
And I know you're waiting
for me to tell you
to leave her for me,
but I never will.
I don't trust you.
I couldn't ever trust you.
Now, if only I can teach myself
to be mad at you
and not feel that
the idea is hysterical.
More Ryem
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