As I sit here, letting my tears race to the bottom of my chin, down my neck, swept up by my cold, shaking fingers
I sit here and wonder if this pain is sitting with you too
Are enveloped in a state of regret and guilt?
Do you feel anything at all?
There is a constant, reoccurring thought
"I am the one who did this to us"
I forget to brush away the flooding salt water from my eyes, noticing they have reached my collar
They sit there, slowing evaporating
The others escaping from my eyes making new traces on my cheeks
Before you, I would have held my breath and suffocated, choking on these shining crystals of pure sadness before I would ever let them plumage down my face
You opened up a doorway that I cannot shut on my own, not that you would ever help me anyways
This is the only language I speak to you
This silent language of grief
I am fluent in these words, distracting me from every other beautiful thing in my life
I hate you for pushing them out of the spotlight so that you could shine in their place, only in a dimmer form
Almost translucent
You are a cheap magic trick
Walking out of a trap door that I never noticed
Because I was too drawn to you
And I find myself sitting here, hating myself for it