this sinking

feeling sucks. there are things I know; and there are things that i regret, there are things that i would rather not be true. Baggage I would rather not exist. Memories that I wish would go away. There are people that haunt my conciousness, people that no longer occupy the sameness that they were for me; and yet I condemn them to their pasts, as I do myself at times. Particularly as I lay in my bed, my secondary sheets rub slight holes in my skin, as my memories do on my brain, too rough for my delicate awareness, now. Why the stabs of guilt and memory? The pangs of past that hit me when i need to sleep, when i need to write? Are you remembering me as well? For all the forgetting I have attempted, the nonchalance I affected when casting you off or trying to forget you, the bile in my belly rises and attacks me when your visage presents itself in my brain. I am sorry. I do miss you, many of you- and I think of you, too often right now for my own good.

this happens every time. love reminds me of past love, desire of past transgressions. I am becoming jaded as I attempt to never repeat my past mistakes.

i wrote this a long time ago, not sure exactly how long:

as much as i ever loved you that fullness still lives in my heart cold & hot all at the same time & when i take a moment to look i see your pretty face looking back because you are caught too
I have no idea for how long though
our circles will not coincide
forever