you tore me apart
when you left that day.

i watched you walk away
and it stung just as much as
your words.

i wanted you to turn back
and tell me you were kidding
and that you still
loved me

but you didnt,
you kept walking
and i never saw you again.

today
i have the same pain
i felt the day
you walked away.

A repeated feat, just as dusk lusts for dawn:
Nights blend seemlessly with the days they seek.
Infatuation to the greatest degree
because if it was love, they'd have found a way to suceed.
Sun would share the sky with stars,
a liminal space split in half.
The ultimate comprimise for exisiting.  
When will the missing them dull to an ache I can bare?
or is this the price?
Would the abscene of pain simply mean the abscene of them?
because if so,
I'd rather dispare in the knowledge that just like the dawn,
I'm cursed to an eternity one step before them,
forever casting shadows.