it’s really never the same love twice. you’ll always look for what’s lacking, the missing brick on that wall, the strands and what makes up each element. it goes that way, but when will enough be enough and what is enough? it’s staring in the strangest of ways and knowing what kind of monsters were inside or for how long you left the water running and how you secretly hoped he passed you notes and letters because you’re beautiful. it’s peculiar, it’s different, it’s how deep the cut was and how you try to stuff the misadventures inside your skin and wait for it to heal – and you actually think you’re healed. not knowing that an emotional void was left to stay forever but he said that the love of two people would fill everything in and i will eventually find out why my mom’s soul and his dwelled on each other even after death, even after death.