Do You?

I want to ask what you think of me.

I want to know your candid thoughts when you hear my name.

I want to know what swims through your mind when you hear a song I used to sing, windows down, blasting.

I want to know if you ever think of me the same times I think of you.

I want to know if despite what you tell others and try to tell yourself, you miss me.

I want to know if you still remember my speech patterns and the smell of that sweet perfume I still wear.

I want to ask you what you remember of me, of us, but part of me is far too scared to know the answer.

I know I’ll be met with a menacing smirk and condescending commentary that’ll only leave me destroyed

but despite knowing this,

despite knowing I will be left to bleed as you walk away,

I still want to ask.

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