The Ripped Soul

My heart hurts so much, and I miss you.. like the deserts miss the rain.

Was listening to an old conversation we had back in January. Your birthday.

"thank you for today.." you were saying.

You enjoyed the night. The day was nice.

Yet the memory of you flinching at my touch lingers. Drinking the entire bottle of vodka in the toilet while you waited outside. Cutting myself. Crying in the cubicle and snapping out of it, telling myself I had to be strong.

Then I asked what you wanted for your birthday.

"You."

But you couldn't have me, right?
I was right there. I'm right here.

We were there. Nevertheless.

"But you had the car ride home at least, right?" I said.
"Yeah, but so did you" came your reply.

What I'd give to feel it again.
To look at you and FEEL like Jake was there.
To feel you in my arms again, with my fingers in your hair, watching you smile while I sang you a lullaby.
To be loved by you again.
To be wanted again.
To have you look in my eyes and feel the love of whatever that was left of us.

But I see your blog now.
New pictures.
Out with friends.
Your entries sound so.. happy.
A far difference from what was back in December and January.
Was it all an act? A lie?
It almost seems as if you're already done with the memory of us and you've moved on.
Why that hurts, I wouldn't know.

But I'm so torn up inside thinking about you, and seeing your pictures just makes the tears fall. My heart aches so much, it cries out for you to come back. It cries for someone to come back. Anyone. Because right now I just feel more alone than ever, and I want someone so badly to just come along and fill this void up. Save me. Love me.

I just want someone to hold me and rock me through the night.

Just like the way you used to, all those nights ago.
What I want for my birthday?

I want the same things you wanted.

But I know I can't have them.
I hate the part of knowing I won't have you anymore. I won't have that anymore. I can't have that anymore. The damage has been done.. the memories are so fucking sweet and I want them all again. I miss it. I miss them. I miss being happy like that. I miss you.

As much as it drained me to put on a show on your birthday, I was happy that day. I was happy because I made you happy. I was happy that you were happy. I was satisfied I managed to make something out for your birthday, even though I couldn't give you want you wanted; even though it was what I wanted.

But that ride home and feeling the spark all over again?
Having my fingers run through your hair?
Tickling you?
To be THAT happy, to feel that spark, to feel and see the love in your eyes:

That is something I wish for everyday of my life.

But that's something I might never ever have again anymore.
Sigh..