Maybe it’s selfish of me, or perhaps narcissistic of me. Maybe I feel a bit possessive over you. Or maybe I just wish you still felt the same about me as you did before. Maybe I just wish you still loved me.
I think a part of me needed you to fight for me. To pick me. Choose me. Love me.
Remember that time you honestly thought you weren’t going to survive? Well look at you, surviving and shit. Once the relief sets in, you become thankful for the lessons you learned. You are able to acknowledge what the relationship taught you and you no longer spend sleepless nights obsessing over the end.
The best relationship of your life will be with one in which you can trust each other, believe in each other, and appreciate each other.
This is the room that have witnessed us; the room we’ve met a few months ago. The room where no one has been in before you – not anyone important anyway.
I’ll count the freckles on your skin and connect them like the constellations your fingertips traced across inked skies that night our lips were too scared to meet each other.
We had our run, and we had our fun, but the run got exhausting and the fun
stopped altogether. Our flickering flame burned out, and our time in the sun
set. That may sound harsh, but it’s the truth.
I think the part I’ve been saving for you died.
Is there some plan
That is beyond me
Or is this just a reminder
To not take things for granted?
Your whisper is like a ghost in my mind
The subtle inflection haunting my brain
Calling to me in the night
Each and every word dragging me back
To the place I’m trying to escape