My bare feet slap the hard wood and it echoes in my ears the way your words always did,
Ringing, a bit too loud,
Too true.
Too false.
And sometimes, I can convince myself that the dungeon depths of my unbrokenly, broken soul cry out for you,
though they only cry out for the nostalgia you gave to me.
I think I knew,
Even then, that your smile wasn’t mine and your laugh wasn’t lit by the sparks that were made by my too fast beating heart.
And even then,
I think I knew I wasn’t in love with you,
But, god, how I loved to make myself believe that I was.
We were hopeless and in uncharted territory,
And all I wanted was to draw the map that showed forever,
And you wanted to stay lost.
So now my bare feet slap the hardwood and I wonder what it is that keeps my heart so far from everyone else.
It’s too complicated and I’m too tired to keep mourning you after all this time.
You’re still alive and so am I.