You’re cold and I burn, I guess i’ll never learn

It’s 12am and with my half-empty beer clutched in my right hand, I’ve been sloppily writing ways on how can I unlove you.

i. I could write you in more ways than one until I can no longer find metaphors that compliment your eyes – how it’s so green it could turn carbon dioxide into oxygen and how looking at you takes me to the deepest part of the forests and how you make life easy as learning how to breathe.

ii. I’d change the sheets on my bed and put on a new one until I can no longer search for you in the body next to mine. I’d throw away the pillows you used so I could stop smelling the warmth in your scent – my home.

iii. I’d stop going to the coffee shop where we met and I would stop being a morning person. I’d drink myself away at night and sleep in the morning after. Then I would have to wake up sometimes before noon to close the blinds and remind myself how you were always the vision in the morning when the light came through.

iv. I would stop listening to radios and even delete my whole discography of The Beatles; because it hurts to think how I fell in love with you and you were never ever true.

v. I’d stop going to the beach and curse at the seas. If only throwing rocks at the ocean would hurt it physically, I would hit it with 365 different kinds of stones and shout how I loved you with a love so deep the ocean couldn’t even fathom it.

vi. I’ll convince myself to hate you until all I can feel for you is nothing but rage. I’d replay in my head all the lies you’ve told and bleed away the skin you have caressed. If hating you meant hating myself for having been easily fooled, then I wouldn’t have any problem doing it at all.

And all of these six ways is probably not enough to forget how you loved me seven ways till Sunday every week. And because loving you meant finding me, I could not risk losing myself in the process of unloving you. And later this morning when I see this scratch of a paper with words that aren’t even readable I would not hesitate to throw it in my pile of trash.

I’m not even left handed after all.


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