Still Me

Burn another evening, and watch the hours tick away, while I continue to try to scrub the scent of past lovers off my palms. You infect every pore, not so much a human presence but a viral essence, until I don't want to sleep anymore. My eyes grow red and weary, staring at the ceiling, praying for you to come along and sweep me off my feet.
A series of precisely calculated missteps that throw the entire machinery of these carefully laid plans into disarray, now I gaze upon the wreckage and wonder where I went wrong.
Perhaps it was the moment you said "Please," or maybe it was when I said "Yes." Now the moments from my past tick by in my memory, and each one becomes a sinister herald portending my fate.
Like when I put the key in the ignition.
Like when you sat across from me with want in your eyes.
Like when I looked up at the stars and could have sworn they were all lined up and smiling just for me, and I smiled right along with them. But your smiles were lies.
Now where do I go from here? I do not want you so much as crave you. What started out so innocent quickly turned black and red, a poison I willingly injected into my veins, distorting the chemical concoction and creating an entirely new strain in my brain. This was new, this was safe. But now it has turned old and sour. New life? Old habits. Die hard? I know not any other way.
The crash and burn extended further than I could have possibly anticipated. Now you'd need a fucking search and rescue team to find my remains, scattered as they've become across this concrete jungle. Penniless and hopeless, desperate to find the missing ingredient. Was it you all along? No, we were destined to be alone.
Was it the itch you scratched that flipped the switch inside? Was it the fear of knowing you'd become part of something bigger than yourself? Is it my punishment for caring too much? Will you say you didn't feel it too, glowing so brilliantly between us you could feel the heat it emanated? Or was it a nuclear meltdown, signaling us to run away? Never before have I witnessed an act of passion so cold, an air of passivity so aggressive.
But it doesn't matter. Whatever path I'm on now, you are not in it. You are still you, and I am still me. Slightly more wounded and staggering, but still me. Somewhat defeated and lost, but still me. Still searching, still hoping, and still thinking about you...but still me.