You always told me that actions speak louder than words, and right after the last “s” sound on “words” you would kiss me. You told me that’s all the proof I needed, and when I missed you, I could remember that kiss and know everything was going to be okay. You made it seem like there would always be another kiss. False commitment would linger in the air like tension with a good connotation. I would miss you so much. I would get so lonely. I would hurt so bad. My heart had the deepest incisions in them, made by the lack of you. Like every time I thought about you, it was a needle making the smallest poke, and accumulating into this gaping hole, where you used to rest. Through all that, I waited. I waited for that upcoming kiss, that moment we would melt together, and our inhibitions were nowhere in sight, it’s almost like they never existed. You would say you loved me, and then you would go say the same things to her. You would tell her that she meant the world to you. She would tell me, like she was excited for me to know. That was so painfully grueling. I was searching for closure anywhere I could get it, because you wouldn’t give it to me. So when someone decided to pick up the pieces that you left behind, you suddenly wanted me again. I was your garbage right? Only yours.