You don't love me.
You don't care.
You keep calling.
You keep asking.
You don't want me.
You don't need me.
You keep wanting.
You keep lying.
You go so far as to call my friends and involve them in your life. You never ask about me exactly. You never mention your new men. You just want to be there, to inhabit that space in my head.
The part of me that wants.
I love you, and I despise you, but I still miss you.
Let me go so I can live my life.
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