Over.
That word.
Over. What does that mean? Over?
"Its over."
Reading it a million and one times, and still not comprehending.
Can't make sense of it.
"We're over."
Meaning, you and I are over? Over what?
I'm not over you. Are you over me?
****! I was over you last week, and you sure as hell didn't seem to mind!
You were into me then!
Really into me.... Into me and out of me.
You were over me too then. Still into me and out of me.
What is over? What in the **** is over?!
Remember when it was come over?! Then come closer. Then closer to coming all over.
Now I'm only coming undone.
Done.
Over.
I say the word out loud. Over.
Over and Over and Over.
"Its over," I say.
I feel the vibrations in my throat as the two tiny words pluck my vocal chords and swim their way up to make my tongue and lips form them and make them real.
"Its over." I say it again.
This time the words catch in my throat. Probably blocked by the lump holding back the stupid tears.
Overwhelmed. Overpowered. Overthinking.
Heart overprotected because WE'RE OVER!
ITS OVER!
Over hurts. Such a stupid word.
Over isn't so much a word, as a feeling.
A variation of feelings.
I liked to feel you over me.
You liked to feel me over you.
Now, we're over.
It's over.
And over hurts until I get over you; get over it.
I have to get over it, because its over.
Over.
That feeling.
How do you get over over?