Your hair was longer.
That's the one thing about you that is sticking in my mind.
That, and the fact that I've seen those jeans a million times.
But I still can't breathe when I think about it.

I dropped my eyes so quickly I went blind for a moment.
No words were said between us, the talking from the others filled the room far better.
I couldn't even look at you past the initial one when you waltzed right into my profusely damaged psyche.
Your voice in my ears was an angry grater to my nerves.
Your reaction to me there mirrored mine:
Nonchalant indifference.
We no longer exist to each other.

I finally got what I've wanted for seven months.
I finally know you still exist, that you're still alive.
I have some solace in that, but mostly just stunned disbelief.
I was in the Twilight zone, my life for the past seven months flashing before my eyes and going right down the drain.
The effect you had on me was a **** poor excuse for the one you used to have on me.
But my heart still ricocheted against my core and my torso was enveloped in horrendously painful flames.

I couldn't utter a single word to you, my thoughts ping-ponging around my head.
Or maybe the reason is because I have nothing left to say to you.
My words have dried up just like your affection long ago.
I have no words for you.
No words would justify your actions, nor mine.
No words would even come close to actually portraying what I've felt because of you.
The pain, the guilt, the betrayal, the pure, agonizing rage, the exhaustion, the inability to eat.
Truth be told, I'd rather experience all that than bow down at your feet anyway.