Self love.

I thik it's time I let you go.
And that's so hard to do
because a part of me
will be
in love
with you
for the rest of my life.

But the daydreaming,
the running in place,
it's not healthy.
I can't do that anymore.

Leave me done.

Can you please leave me done?
Your memory is killing me.
I think I should hate you but seems like
this part of my head misunderstands it with

missing you.

I think I need to see you one last time to

get over it.

You are like a dead flower in my heart,

not letting me grow;

I think I have to cut you off to fix myself

before it's too late.

The knife

The worst part is that I've been blaming myself when I was the one with the knife stabbed in my back.
We are the decissions we make.
If you see me on the street, would you talk to me or would you let your pride consume you again?

(It's about priorities)