I never thought it was possible to experience a pain like this.
Like my very being has been ripped apart and my soul is slowly leaking.
Like who I was can never be again, me in my naïveté giving so much of myself to you, to us, that my identity feels forever lost.
Or at least that identity does. That version of who I am, and who I was, forever lost.
I know I was far from perfect, but I always thought that we were worth it. I always thought we’d fight for us. For love. For whispered promises made while our noses touched, eyes separated by inches but hearts intertwined.
I had a lot to learn but the way you taught me these things- the way I’ve had to come to terms with my faults- it was cruel. To walk out on me the way you did, like I was just another kid, like I barely meant anything to you, the years, the sweat the time all moot.
And I know that you don’t owe me shit. I’m not under any delusions- not one bit. But still a part of me wishes that I could somehow, in some way, show you how much you hurt me. And could look you in the eye and ask you if you actually cared. If you ever. truly. cared. And if you did, when it all went away.
When it all slipped between our fingers like dried dirt and clay. How the words we spoke, just yesterday, could suddenly be so empty. And now just to sit in silence with you would be plenty.
What am I doing, writing these sing song words? You’ll never read them, they’ll never be heard. I wish I could tell you just one thing now- I still fucking love you.. Some way. Some how.
And I understand that you can love someone and not want to be with them. And I understand that you can love someone and want to run away. And I understand that you can love someone and for someone else be smitten. And I understand that you can love someone but just can’t bring yourself to stay.
But it fucking sucks.
Anyways, off I go into the night, cottage grove streets shrouded in pale moonlight. In half a window, a mile away, looking like I have something to say. And in this digital diary I write this ode, this mix of rhyme and rhythm and code. And wish will I with a heavy heart, that time had spared what will now, always, be apart.