What Isn't Wanted
H O L L O W
Me. I am not wanted.
You. Always wanting.
Me and you. You not wanting me.
The truth. You want to take what you can from me, and then leave me wanting something which you never intended to give to me. Never. It’s too hard for you. You set it all up to be just too much to ever give up, walk away, and make me legitimately yours. Too bad for me. Guess I just have to suck it up, and survive whatever way I can.
How fortunate for you that I am a great secret. What a mess your life would be if I was not. How fortunate for you that I do not seek to destroy you as you are willing to destroy me. My heart and my soul have been bloodied on our secret playground that is become this battlefield called Love. Why don’t I destroy you? I don’t want to obliterate the innocence of innocent people.
I hurt myself. I beat myself up over and again. I have waited for you ~ endlessly, or so it feels. I don’t want to wait anymore for the scraps and the crumbs that fall to the floor from the table of your life. I don’t deserve that. I deserve so much more. Happiness is not meant for only you. It is meant for me as well. I am not some side dish on the table of your life to be chosen, or not chosen, consumed or pushed aside, saved for later and turned into some midnight snack consumed when your hunger takes over, and no one else is watching.
I am certain that you will be just fine without me. I’ll be a pleasant memory that curls the edges of your mouth sometimes. I’ll be the woman in your dreams who wakes you to find yourself breaking out in a cold sweat. I’ll be the raw desire that races through your body when I walk by and the essence of me is left behind. You will remember how good my hair smells, and the way you used to bury your face in it. Ah, the memories. You will remember that once you had me, and you will realize that now you don’t.
Aching, cold, gnarled gut. Hollow, so hollow. That is the inside of me. Time to purge my love. If I let go of you, then I can hold on to something that wants to love me. Me.
Me. Me without you.
Me without you.
Me forgiving you.
Me forgiving . . . me.
God be with you. I no longer can be.
© 2012 Bella Nina
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To be in the midst of a tormented love affair is to run naked in an endless thunderstorm. It is to be so exposed at your core that you exist on the love alone.