I find it hard to decide -
if our tragedy is defined by loving each other or by not loving at all.

Would life have been any different if I had not felt my heart collapse within my chest, or watched you leave a hundred times over?
I don't think anything would have changed at all -
because in the end, you are always gone.

That is something that will never change,
no matter what lies my heart tries to tell itself. You are gone.

I don't feel any pity for my heart when it's tucked into a dark corner,
barely alive on its last few beats. It's abandoned and I can hear it shedding tears from across the room.

Come back, it cries.
It has the face of a little girl and her brown eyes are wet, long lashes dripping with memories. They splatter on the floor and become nothing in an instant.

She's clutching her hands against her chest -
such a tight grip for small, shaky hands. I don't feel any pity. I don't.
There's nothing I can do for her. Nothing at all.

Come back! she screams. She's too weak to crawl, too tired to run.

She stops beating within me the moment she whispers, please. Her dead body is left, untouched, in that dark corner where it'll never be found.
There's nothing I can do for her. Nothing at all.

The biggest tragedy, I've come to realize, is not the fact that you left me so many times. It's how slowly the realization of your loss crept into me when I wasn't looking, wasn't paying attention, wasn't thinking of you.

You made me leave myself and now I'm left with nothing at all.