I miss you, but I don't ever want you back. Sometimes, I sit there, I sit so still. I sit and wait for your voice to come into my head again. I miss hearing it. But not enough anymore. I don't miss you enough to want you back, us back. We could never admit it, but we were so stuck in a fairytale that we could no longer see the unhappiness. We couldn't see the addiction. The obsession. Our love for each other was once so intense I could literally feel every single heart beat screaming your name. I could look at my scarred skin and see you running through my veins, knocking the wind out of me. Sucking all of Courtney, out of me. I used to blame you. Hate you even. Sometimes honestly I still do. Because you were the grown up. You should've never let this happen. But it did. And I no longer blame you. I no longer regret you. We had something so undeniably real. Something so twisted and so wrong that it  as actually right. Looking back, it used to be in black and white. Now it's in colours again. I see you smiling, laughing, with your eyes squinting and your cheeks going flush. I see your huge browns eyes watching me sleep. I feel your lips again. I feel your hands, that were always so soft. And it hurts more than anything. It fucking feels like I'm on fire. But it doesn't hurt bad enough. It doesn't hurt bad enough anymore. I am so strong now. I see all the bad stuff too. I see all the trust issues, all the pain. All the misery. I see everything we couldn't see. So I miss you. And it fucking hurts. But it's not enough. It will never be enough. You have turned back into a memory. A cherished memory, but a tucked away in the deepest part of my soul. Only to be reopened when I need a reminder, of what not to feel ever again.