The crack was practically audible,
with every hour came a new fracture.
The ceiling fan mocks me as old pictures gleam from any place
my impulses can project them off of.

I think there is a fifth sense when it comes to these kinds of things,
where silence is more telling than really anything.
Though this is a feeling i have felt before,
it is much different this time.

Past me did not know love like i do now.
It's funny to say that though.

First time i fell, every inch of me was certain it was forever.
This time i was much less naive,
and did not believe that to be the case at all.
I knew better.
With such a safety net you would think this would be a walk in the park, yet it is inexplicably worse.

I now watch him slip out of my fingers,
and though i want to fight i know i should let it go if it does not want to stay.
I only wish i knew how?

Both your presence, and lack of, drains me.
there is no point in fighting anymore,
you are now like the rest.

You turn a blind eye to your discomforts,
and i find no reason to continue
to be disappointed by you.
You now join the army of the silent,
never being bothered enough to care about anything that is not
directly related to yourself.

I guess that includes me now,
and i will take your lack of interest as means of goodbye.

I will not wake you from you slumber to remind you to care,
for it is inauthentic and temporary at best.

It seems the power is giving out.
I scour the floor blind,
while muscle memory guides me to
existing lifelines no longer connected to salvation.

I give up.

Silence fills what i know to be what never was a home,
with my dreams being the only connection to where my heart truly
finds it's comfort.
The only problem lies in the lack of sleep claiming my tired eyes.

In the darkness i find just myself,
and maybe that's the point.

The thunder knocks us off balance.
Turns are taken shooting lightning bolts
where we both know it hurts the most.

The world is hazy as you leave me, tired,
while i blindly (quite literally) drive home after the storm.

A drive that should not have gone smoothly,
gone by without a single reaching hand.

Morning came as the birds sang and
the world went on doing what it knows best,
all while you exist without the slightest bit of worry
or hesitation.
I am stupid to have expected something different.

I think the worth of someone dear is much more than a rainy night.
If one night causes one to forget,
what will a lifetime do?

I am your spectacle.
You gather, an audience amongst you,
ready for this weeks show.

Your words are sharp,
as you mock my fears to entertain the masses.

I am a fool,
for both showing up as well as "preforming"
a sold out show.

Paint me out to be a monster,
for the audience has never had the pleasure to think anything else.
Ensure your holy actions are spoken for,
as i spend another night sleeping among promises that were as transparent as your gracious invitation.

My mind grows heavy.
I had the equation figured out i thought.

I broke free of my shackles and have a bed to call my own,
as well as the means to do as i please.

All that has limited us for years now gone for a summer,
yet i am here, and you are there.

So here's a toast,
to fog the imaginary assurance of the abundance,
and to making brownies to drown it all away.