do you think of me? 

like i think of you? 

do i live in your mind 

haunting you? 

how do you refer to me? 

how do you tell people 

about what we were,

what we had?

do you even talk about me? 

because i talk about you

you float around in my mind 

a tattoo on the inside of my skull 

and i don’t know if i love you 

or if i love the idea of you 

of what you represent 

of what you represented 

and even though it’s been so long 

it’s still recent 

you’re still recent 

because i think i remember 

the way you made me feel 

and the words you used 

that made me feel liked and loved 

for once in my life 

but did i love you 

or did i love what you represented? 

do i look back fondly

on that time in my life 

because i choose not to remember 

your flaws and negativities 

is that what love is? 

remembering only the good parts 

of you 

but i remember the bad parts too 

the parts i didn’t agree with 

but i want to make them go away 

i don’t want to remember those parts 

all i want to remember is your warmth 

and i want to hear your voice 

and see your face 

and revel in your energy 

and bask in your soul 

and all of this sounds like i love you

but i don’t know if it’s real 

am i just looking at the past 

and putting a positive spin on it all? 

a nice, pretty filter 

to cover up the terrible parts? 

because i want myself 

to want to hate you 

for what you did 

so many times 

for abandoning me 

leaving me adrift 

leaving me alone 

but i don’t want to be alone 

i want to cling to the only person

who ever liked me 

but we weren’t anything, were we? 

so do you still think of me? 

do you talk about me? 

how do you refer to me? 

since we weren’t ever anything

but god,

i wish we had been something 

something that you cherished 

so do you think about me? 

because i want you to, desperately 

and i know i’m being 

dramatic and theatrical and emotional 

but that’s how i am with everything 

so why shouldn’t those parts of myself 

those toxic, infectious parts 

spread to what we had? 

because i want you to have missed me 

every day 

i want you to regret what happened 

i want you to be consumed 

by memories of me 

i want to be someone’s 

every waking thought 

is that so selfish of me? 

to want to be someone’s world? 

is it so selfish 

to want to be the center of attention? 

maybe not the center 

of the whole world 

but just to one person 

i want to be looked at 

like i hung the moon and the stars 

i want love 

that someone would die for

i want love that i would die for 

i want what the lovers of Pompeii had 

what the triassic cuddle had 

embraced and ensconced 

forever resting 

finally at peace