Unfortunately I don't know what to do with the memory of you;
Burning it feels like three whole years of my life has just been flushed away, including the good because you were never all bad.
Keeping it feels like I am still holding on and trust me I would be happy if I never saw you again, so that really isn't the case, I have been over the you I know now for a long time.

It's the fictional you, the one you wove out of nothing, the one that was based on everything you knew would entice me, the one that appealed to my every molecule that I still have a lingering long and lust for. I think you are still aware because how can you hate someone so much, with all the fibres of your being, without having lingering thoughts and feelings.

I do hate you though, so I will end up burning these romanticised dreams about who you used to be, because those years have been wasted.

Completely wasted on a lie, the lie, of course, being you.