I drew a heart on my wrist

With the ink pen you gave me when I left

But the tip was too thin and scratchy

And all the effort into the heart made my skin turn red

The heart carves its way into my wrist

The same way your face is carved in my mind

The way you looked at me

When you saw me for the first time in two years

The annoyed, hateful, expressionless face

You stared at me with

Before turning and laughing with your friends

As though you didn’t see me

I hoped. Two years straight. I hoped

That my messages you left on read

Were for a good reason and it wasn’t ignorance

That the phone glass between us

Was barricading you from responding

Keeping us apart

Making our reunion more special

But your face.

Your expression.

My reaction.

The hate.

The hate. My hate. Hate for you.

Hate that I love you.

Hate myself.

Hate that I left you.

Is it something I did?

What could I have done? When we were separated for so long.

And the ink sinks into my wrist

As your expression sinks into my mind

Our memories sinking down to somewhere forgotten