Debridement

He looked so good last night but I knew I couldn't have him. It had been over a month since I saw him last, although the entire stretch of those weeks held an unfathomable amount of late night talks and stupid jokes, I had seemed to forget how intense my attraction for this person (insignificant, immeasurable) was. Tall and lean, dressed simply with his dark hair pulled to the side. He locked eyes with me and gave me a sly smile before turning away. He chose her, who although I feel terrible for thinking these thoughts, seems less than special to me. She is convenient, she is available, she is there. She is just there. But this is not about her. What is this about? The melodrama inside my head, I'm sure. I'm not certain about what I wanted out of what this could have been (maybe nothing, maybe everything), but what I got was a hopeful thought of the warmth of your simple company peeled from the inside of my skull and somehow tossed into the dry dirt. Stripped away like the debridement of something immobile and useless, I turned myself inside out again and shrugged to show how little I cared.