It would be easier if I could hate you

But I can't.

It would be easier if I could just toss my head and snort and proclaim, "Good riddance!" But that's not how I feel.

It would be easier if I could discard all thoughts of you and file them away as stories to tell to friends in the future. But they're ubiquitous and here and REAL and they're not ready to be shoved aside. And I don't really want to.

Instead I find myself being so proud of you, and what and who you are. I find myself wishing I could have seen your face and been there with you for those moments and I find myself missing your smile so much I can't breathe.

If I hated you I could chalk up one to experience and take that red hot emotion and put it to some practical use. Instead I find myself still belonging to you. If I hated you I could put away your T-shirt, and maybe send  you your stuff, or maybe burn it all, instead of stockpile it where I can keep an eye on it, as if someone was going to steal it away from me.

If I hated you I could join in when people want to say mean things about you. I could use my wit to say brutal things & share confidences to make everyone laugh and think less of you. I could do that easily, if I hated you. Instead I tell them that you are wonderful and I was very much in love with you and I won't hear a word against you. I tell them that it is none of their business and I don't need to talk about it with them. I tell them the band is awesome. I tell them you're doing great and they should go check out your shows and find you on facebook.

If I hated you I would be all right with the fact that people you have declared you don't even like get to stay close to you and I don't. No, instead I'm wondering where I went wrong; where I keep going wrong.

Because I don't hate you I find myself missing you. I look at your pillow and remember your soft sleep-breathing and the curve of your back moving in time with it in the moonlight. I think about the smell of your neck and your hair when you held me. I think about making you laugh, and all of the things we did together and the places we went and the people we met. The green of your eyes and how the sunlight catches them just right and makes them look like opals for a split second. Long musician's fingers on hands that are too big for me to hold all at once so I just hold one finger when we hold hands. The way you kissed me like you meant it and called me beautiful like it was my name. I miss our banter and how easy and fun it was to do anything or nothing. These thoughts hurt me but they also console me, because they're beautiful and full of love.

If it were possible for me to hate you, I would. I would hate you, and I would scream and stomp my feet and throw things and call you names and drink too much and fuck strangers and tell everyone how much I FUCKING HATE YOU and it would be a cathartic release and I would recover and move forward.

No, no. I don't hate you. If I hated you, this would be easy.