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I'm tired of pouring my heart out to one word replies. I'm tired of feeling so much for you to feel nothing. And when I wake up alone and you wake up with her, I know you won't be thinking of me. And when I tell you I can't talk to you anymore because it makes the breath in my lungs turn to concrete and the air around my body turn to stone, you tell me "I understand". And there I am, the utterances dripping off my lips and running down my chest, an ugly black reminder of the honesty I felt comfortable sharing. You sit emotionless. You can't be empty now, I'm empty. Fill me up. In response to my heart break you share only one short reply reminding me that my utter hatred of the lack of us is directed exactly where it should be. I'm ******* tired. Please don't shut down. Don't turn off toward me, turn on. Open up. Tell me you hate me, tell me I'm ugly, tell me I'm an irrelevant part of your life. Do as you have previously done and tell me I will always have a special place in your heart. A place where good things go to die. A place where I can remember that we were never going to last. A special place that screams a solem "The End". But for God's sake do not feed me silence. I have felt those lips, those arms, that chest. I have felt you, I have heard you, You are real. Please don't dissapear on me now. Do not. go away.
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Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 11:12 AM UTC
The End of Us