"Forget him"?

Again, I am thrust into the land of trite. Cliche broken heart - where love is turned into a weapon and used against you. Where heartbreak is rehab, and all are made out to be addicts of self inflicted torture - love.

I stare at the phone hoping it will ring (not knowing if I could answer it if it was him.) Eyes drawn to the window at every car noise. I endlesssly comb the email in-box for any hope, to the real mailbox too. I read, and re-read every note, searching for clues, for a grain of hope that I can balance my life on. I hold the phone in my hand every night for hours, number dialed and cry. Cry for him, cry for me. Cry for the loss that he doesn't even seem to have the good sense to realize has/is happening. Cry because he doesn't care. Or doesn't care enough. Hours endless march across the darkend room I have created while I search my head. When I can sleep, I sleep every night with a shirt that no longer even carries the remembrance of his smell. And wake up to cry again.

Intellecutally, I know that I should not be hung up on a man that has knocked me up, left me (2 times), broken my heart, thrown me into walls, cheated on me, embarrased and humiliated me, insulted me at every turn, torn me apart at every seam just to watch me deconstruct.

And yet, I love him. Unconditionally, like I promised. I do love him with my whole heart. I ache for him to love me again too. I dream every moment of a call, a surprise visit where he swoops me into his arms, covers me in kisses and begs for my forgiveness, telling me he loves me true. Where he spends the time to get me to like him again. To court and woo me, to heal every scar in my heart and on my soul that he has made.

I love him. I wish he hadn't used that against me for so long.

I love him still.