Keep the heart, return the clit

You came back for me  
just as I was moving  
on with meaningless  
sex, and learning  
how to drink  
like an old broken bitch  
with nothing left to feel  
 
and you walked right the fuck  
up to me with your bright shining  
ideals, and gave me the  
lets-be-friends-handshake  
with the dangerous gleam  
in your eyes  
that reminded me  
I'll never  
get  
over
you.  
 
And that you never fucking loved me
  
Fine.  
 
Just, fine. Whatever.  
 
I wasted my tears on you,  
and I wasted some fucking  
great poetry on you  
and I never felt so hard,  
or came so hard,  
or wanted so hard,  
just to touch you,  
just to...  
 
And the day you left,  
the way you left,  
the gentle way you told me  
you wanted to cry, too,  
and that you hated this...  
(because you're honestly a good fucking person,  
and I'm... I'm honestly not.)  
 
that you hated this...  
 
it was like you steeped me in Novocain,  
stripped me down to nothing,  
and left me a shivering wreck,  
alone with no way to remember feeling.  
 
And slowly the numbness is wearing low  
and I can think,  
I can feel...  
I can want...  
but I still can't come without  
seeing your eyes bore into mine.