I Didn’t Think It Would Be This Hard To Unlove You

I didn’t think it would be this hard to unlove you.

When I made that decision,
the decision to fall completely and utterly
and unchangeably for you,
I didn’t think it would be this hard to undo.

And it was a decision. It was the
decision to let any protective walls I had
crumble,
to return to you when everything told me
I shouldn’t and to adore every square inch of your being.
Of you.

But they say it’s not the fall that hurts;
it all rests in the way you land.
The falling was easy,
thoughtless.
It consisted only of false hope,
false expectations,
a false sense of realism.
Thoughtless bliss.

Then I landed.
I plunged head first into this pit of despair and longing.
And I landed with a thud.
It’s dark down here and only the light of your
feigned interest
supplies me with what is necessary
for survival
and, more importantly, what is necessary
to keep me from gaining the strength
to climb back up the walls that surround me.
Walls built with the firm and impenetrable stone
of hope.
At the top of the pit,
looking down with pity culminating in that smug and beautiful smile,
you stand.

The truth is,
you’ve imprisoned me here.
You’ve locked me in a barren castle
and in doing so, you’ve lost the key.
I can’t pretend to know how I see you any more.