And I’m over it, pretty much. In my head, completely. In my heart, not so much. So I held onto the only thing I had left to describe, the life left in me dancing behind your dark eyes. Where I once failed to define what you’d done to mutually awaken and equally destroy my mind.
I was in awe of the ways in which you could silently dismember my mind, and keep me so entirely separate from the world. You wouldn’t have told me the truth, and I knew, you didnt really know what to do. Or probably even what to say. I didn’t really care and probably felt the same. And in our hearts, still, it was obvious we held the words that would take away the shame; silwntly hanging our heads the last four minutes of the game. And quite possibly I’m not the same (person you fell in love with). But you probably wouldn’t go that far. Probably wouldnt have waited nearly two weeks for your car. In a realm in which the writer was forgotten, knowing finally the end was both painful and shocking. You didnt seem to notice and we still weren’t really talking. All of that and you dont think we can last, and have doubts that we can make it through,
Another loss of I or you. In a divine dance we can’t remember that it takes two. And I’d move first but I’m getting tired of being misused. To tell you the truth, its been feeling rather meaningless; to be so misunderstood. So meaninglessly “good”. ‘So they took everything I ever loved.’
And they probably should.