You can only love so much with your naive, blameless heart. You can only love me here, until this moment before the daylight arrives, settling gracefully next to my clothes on these hardwood floors. Palms like yours can never hold storms, and the ones in my chest have never known peace. I should've known in the first place that I was never meant to stay. So I'm leaving, without much of lingering scents or bedside letters. I'm leaving the exact same way that all storms do. I'm leaving, and I hope it hurts.




I hope the calm after me hurts.