For Him: December Poem by Abigail Hauschild

I miss you. The fact that I'm forced to talk to the page rather than you makes me unbelievably sad. I only write when I'm lonely so lately my pen hasn't stopped scratching along. I keep going over why we broke up (can you call it breaking up if we weren't officially 'together') . I can't decide if it was because you just didn't want me in the same way I wanted you or if it was because I selfishly wanted all of you when I couldn't give you the same. For me, almost is never enough. I used to be able to read you in one glance, one text, one touch. You have become more foreign than Greek to me now. Can sex, or the lack thereof, really change people that much? I missed you so much I thought about just throwing myself at you. If sex was all you wanted or all it takes to get to be with you again it would be a small price to pay. I would gladly pay it to be able to talk to you, for you to comfort me, or just to be able to see you. Fucking never meant anything to me before. I don't know why it was so difficult for me that night. If I could change it I would. If I knew that was the price ahead of time I would have gladly paid it. I guess I took for granted that you had always been there for me. I assumed you always would be. I didn't put you in the same category as all the other guys who had lusted after my body without giving a thought to who that body belonged to or the mind that came along with it. I thought you could fall in love with my dark and twisted soul but I guess I underestimated hormones or overestimated what you thought of me. No matter.....if you knew I was only having sex with you because I thought I had to for even your friendship you wouldn't let me. You'd feel like a bad person. You would never want to be 'that guy'. I hate you for that. If you were like other guys from my past, spineless and despicable in that sense, you would be in my arms right now. Most of all I hate you for making me love you when I had kept my heart locked up for years. I was comfortable with my destructive habits and careful distances. You awoke a part of me I didn't know was still alive. You are the first boy who ever broke me down but I thought you were going to put me back together. Instead you walked away. I cried for days. And although the tears have dried up the ache hasn't left. My heart may have been shriveled up from lack of use but at least it wasn't broken before. It's broken now. I'm broken now. You're fine and it kills me. You mean so much to me and obviously you never needed me like I need you. I need you. Come back.