You.

Me — i.e, jpenseur

Sometimes I wonder if you sit with this feeling.

I hate it, and a part of me wishes that you are suffering as much as I am.

That way atleast it was real. Substantial. Meaningful.

You left something permanent, and try as I may, I can't get rid of it. 

I always feel like I need to be kind.

As if kindness would expedite my healing. No.

I don't wish you well. I want for you to burn with the same intensity of flames used to crush my spirit. 

I bind you to sit with this feeling.

I want you to feel unseen, unheard, and alone. To inflict that on me was so easy. I wish to do the same to you.



All I ever wanted in my life was to know love.



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