a memory or three

the people that I used to miss; I don't hate them the way that I once did. they are gone, gone, gone, so gone that I can't remember what it was like to watch them talk. they are gone and the shape of their upper lip doesn't kill me the way it used to.
but I wonder, I mean, do you wonder? do you wonder if something of that still remains?
I think it does, because the times when I glimpse them, this person, these people, I still feel that shock to my chest like a defibrillator gone astray. and I hope that they go somewhere else. and I hope I never see them again. because too much of that kind of reaction could probably short me out for good.
sometimes I think I should only fall for people that live out of state.
that way I don't have to run the risk of a heart attack just from some chance meeting.
that way I don't have to die just because someone didn't want me the way I wanted them.