It Was Always About You To Begin With
I feel like at this point, I've done everything I can but scream words of loving regret. I don't know what the point of doing that would be since you're too busy staring at yourself in the mirror, mistaking that as love.
Maybe I never understood what it meant to love you, because you've never let anyone understand what it meant to even know you.
Mysteries are not as enjoyable as they seem, especially when it's someone who only knows how to touch skin, and not soul.
The hands of the clock moved as fast as your hands moved down my spine, but I always hated moving quickly as much as you hated waiting.
And that is where the downfall began.
Maybe it ended quick to you; out of the blue, in the blink of an eye. But for me, it seemed like an ongoing circle that I couldn't find my way out of.
It was like carrying someone else's burdens around on your shoulders. It was like breathing in someone else's air. It was like seeing things through someone else's eyes.
If that's what it's suppose to be like, then maybe I do understand why I want to be alone.
I could never figure out how to say goodbye, and you could never find the right way to say hello.
The building collapsed quickly; floor by floor, tumbling down one after another.
Windows shattering, door frames cracking down the middle, papers full with words of love burning in the debris.
You want to know the least painful goodbye?
It's the one that never got to happen before you left for good.