How do you gouge out the parts that are him? Those sneaky little habits that you seem to pick up without noticing, or the gestures you make that are actually his, or the things he has taught you and made you understand?
What happens to the you that loved him? What should you do with the gifts and cards that used to mean so much?

You are inseparable in such a way that you can’t seem to find the fine line between yourself and him. Like siamese twins within one body, with hatred for each other, love for another..

In that many ways, you are inseparable.



The side lines, the hidden obsession that brews like hot tea, slowly loosening up, releasing its hidden flavour. Unravelling like balls of yarn, just to be entangled again. The sad corner of my lips are always pointing downwards, pulled by gravity and the heavy burden of your temptations. Slowly, I realise, it is nothing but the limerence that is holding me face down to the cold, white floor, and that I should let go of it to stop hurting myself.