Two and a half years of my life
spent pining, yearning, honing in your memory.
My dreams revitalizing your body but never quite able
to capture your voice.
Two and a half years of self-loathing, because you stopped
speaking to me.
Nightmares and day dreams, engrossed in the past or
the future with you in it, takes up the space meant for the present.
Two and a half years later, and you still treat me like **** but
now you have agreed to see me.
Naturally I was ecstatic, but indifference has knocked on my door
and I'm debating on opening it.
Unrequited love has lost its glamour and its edge.
One sip of your mind used to make me tipsy
but all those nights out on the town
has got me drunk on other men and other worlds
that don't revolve around you.
Two and a half years later, and I could potentially have you,
but what good would that do, if your love could never amount
to the intensity and the longevity of my love for you.
The door is still knocking but I'm shutting the whole world out tonight.
Two and a half years later, and I finally have the strength to overcome
your choke hold and take control of my life.