It happened again.
It reappeared, as if from nowhere.
There used to be a time that (in some strange way) I would shrug and it would fall off my shoulders. It will not go away and you're not here to take it.
You've had it all along, so why didn't you tell me?
I need a reason to walk away and never speak of this again.
Now I can't (won't) save you. You looked me in the eyes as I had my back turned on you.
It's not that impossible to understand once you know how sorry I was (I lied). I can't do this (and neither can you) but yet I can't stop, or bring myself to face this. I smelled it on your skin and just knew this would be the last time I would have a hold on myself (reality).
But.. still, it happened again.