I hope I haunt your dreams.
I hope every night when you lie in bed, you ache, because my arms aren’t there to keep you warm. To keep you safe. I hope you realize how good you had it—and it brings you to your knees because you know you will never have it again. I hope that every hug you receive reminds you of the way we used to hold each other so tightly. I hope the truth I spoke to you rings so loud in your head that it’s the only thing you hear. I hope my ghost haunts you every time you walk into that apartment and all of the memories we made hit you like a freight train when you realize that I am no longer there.
I hope you hate falling asleep at night in the bed we shared. I hope you curl up in it, trying to fight the pain away.
But most of all, I hope the next heart you smash into carelessly and selfishly, trying to drip every last drop of its blood until you are sick of the taste—I hope that it quenches your thirst.
I hope you keep that heart safe. I hope you love that heart the way it deserves, that you give it a home.
And then I hope that heart rejects you.
Spits you out because of the venom that courses through your veins. I hope that you are left broken, feeling like you are not enough.
I hope it leaves you questioning your worth, wondering what you did wrong. What you could have possibly done to deserve this. I hope that in that moment, it all comes crashing down and finally hits you.
Because then, and only then, will you realize what it is that you’ve done to me.