I still think of you often. What you’re doing. Who you’re with. If you slept well. If you have had enough to eat or drink. If you’re happy. If you still think of me too. If you miss me. If you ever loved me. If you still do even though i know you don’t. I know i shouldn’t think of you as often as i do but i can’t help it. So much was left unsaid that leaves me wondering. I still think of what i did wrong. And why you left. But i’m learning to be okay with the latter. What’s done is done. It’s like smoke in the wind. It’ll never be the same. You’ll never be back in my arms again. As much as i hope for it but also hate you for it too. I hate that i hate you. But it’s better that way i think, hurts less.