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Missing You

Four months ago I vowed
I’d never write about you again.
Well, here I am, a different age,
A different person.
I’m not afraid of breaking
Every time I hear your name.
I’ve discovered things about you.
Toxic things.
My absence has not been good for you,
Like yours has been good for me.
I know who I am now,
And I’m not scared of it.
I am not frightened.
I hear you’re trying to be better.
For your sake, I hope that is true.
I fell out of love with you a while ago,
But sometimes you still seem to haunt me.
Us doesn’t exist,
And never will again.
You are a country I no longer live in.
But sometimes I look at you
And I think I could fall in love with you again.
I won’t, because I’m not the same person
That I used to be.
You hurt me, and you made me afraid to love.
I hurt me too.
So no, I’m not in love with you.
I don’t even particularly like you that much.
Why, then, when I’m alone, do I find myself
Missing you?

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