Don’t do the thing you always do, crawling back into my skin. Don’t look at me. Don’t make me feel like things still aren’t over between us. Your leaving. Your going! You shouldn’t matter. Yet, you still do. I’m so angry at you. But I hate myself more. For allowing you to wriggle yourself closer and closer. I always say I’m happier without you. But I know its not true. Because I am dreading the day you really do leave. When I can’t steal glimpses of you, or send you looks. When I can’t turn to you, since your the only person who knows when I’m cracking. I’m dreading the day I’m going to no longer be able to hold your hand or crawl into your arms.

I’m dreading the day I finally have to let you go.