I don’t.

i hate writing these shitty,
garbage fucking poems.
wish i never met you,
i would carve a hole in my skull
cut out my mind and go simple.
but it’s deeper than that
it wouldn’t help me forget.
you are a plague on my existence,
my skin crawls when you are mentioned.
through no fault of your own

you were just being,

i can’t get your stink off my shirt.

i want you out of my fucking head,
a moment of relief from your face.
just to wake up in the morning
and think about anything other than those days.
when everything was bliss.
the brief periods in-between the chaos
where i felt whole and at peace.
i want to forget you
but really,
i don’t.

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