A Disturbance on Memory Lane

You always liked description. You said that's why you loved me, for my.. descriptiveness. Not for lust driven intention indented into the form of your hands on my hips but my.. descriptiveness. The officer asked for a description, but what they were really asking for was an insight on my mental and why I was trespassing it's private property. "Well," I told them, "she stood at about 5'3. Brown eyes. Hair-god knows what color now- and fair skin, but not as fair as mine. Very suitable cause she never really liked to play fair no matter how alike I swore we were.. and a birthmark placed where you won't be able to see unless you were where I've been.. just like the birth of her existance seemed to play on everywhere before her that I've been and everywhere else that I don't know where I'm headed after this.." I told the officer you were someone they'd never see coming.. a random bystander that's actually a disguised misfortune of shit luck and sold off as that cruel joke, "the best thing that ever happened to you" playing a mark on your whole life that no one will ever be able to fucking notice but you until you hear that they're the only one bold enough to laugh at the punchline and vandalize a whole fucking mindset. So, I resorted back to my mental, the part where I really wasn't supposed to be, to proceed with the description.. I told you that I loved you for yours..not for every crevice and pore I've sunk the very sores of my touch into but for every single rush of momentum that peaked from your stubborn monotone, every thought that peaked my interest, every breath that I knew like the pulse of a metronome even before those nights your voice followed right after a dial tone, everytime your melodic melancholy would heighten from recognizing all the ways I loved you.. it was still loving your voice when it told me everything we would do versus actually doing it.. Out of sincerity or pure impulse the words suppressed in your mental formed to your voice and actually went through with it when we actually never went through with any of it.. ... I apologized to the officer.. told them to let me collect myself, cause I could do it quicker than being booted from your bed before your girlfriend would go and ransack it like this fed trying to find something obvious out of place.. like those marks that used to trail down from your neck but attention was something she never really paid, but I pay the price of those marks being something that I made.. things that healed to you but the foreshadow of scars embracing the mental I vacate. The officer says I'm trespassing.. that I should just leave it be, go on home, they've heard enough and all they're trying to do is ensure my safety from remembering the ways I loved you. I'm disturbing my own peace. I don't know why they showed up here, asking why I resorted to the trauma of everyway you've left me, and I told them "with all due respect this is the last thing I can just let be." I told them to leave, leave me to loiter on this dead end of reasons why you loved me. Even with your most geniune interest being led by lust and a distant former love, I stay vacating the faulty premises of trusting in you. I'm not really sure if you still like my description... but it should've never been yours to love in the first place. It's come apart harder than the indent of your place on my mental. I'm disturbing my own peace trying not to go more mental. But they still persist on me just leaving you be.