Mar 2018
I've found myself furthering my distance from you, because in all reality I’m more immune to your absence. We’ve spent more time apart than we ever did together. And we shared no last words of goodbye, it was all false hope intertwined with the psychological pull in each other’s head.
And I’ve finally realized that what we had was never love, just chemicals between us.
It was all ecstasy with an inevitable comedown that shattered the heart. But the spoonful of adrenaline we injected in each other’s veins was enough to put the pieces back together, as if they would ever fit the same. I found myself cutting my knees on all the broken pieces, while begging for your forgiveness. We were filled with sickness.
I memorized the atlas in your body, I traced the roadmaps hidden in your skin. I became the nerve endings moving along the wires in my body. And you were the drug pulsating through my bloodstream. What we had was euphoria, an incredible high filled with deep lows.
We kept returning to each other’s arms like waves. As if the currents could take the pain away.
I put you on a pedestal. I told myself you were God, and bathed in your tears like they were holy water. As if you could save me from the disease that centers in my mind. I thought you were the girl who shined my stars and lined my sky. I refused to see past the image I made you out to be.
You put a bookmark in my heart, expecting to find me where you left me.
The chapter ended much sooner than I wanted. I’m stuck with an ambiguous cliffhanger with no correct punctuation. I made you the main character in my story and that is where I went wrong. I became background noise in my own life. You were the puppeteer, pulling my heartstrings, assuring me the show must go on. Because the audience always applauds at the sight of our clasped hands. I started to wonder who we were keeping ourselves together for.
Our demise was abrupt. It didn’t happen slowly over time. We got absorbed in white powdered lines, and ‘having a good time’ off of nicotine and wine. The ***** on your breath was enough to make me dizzy. We put the chemicals in our bodies and there was a psychological change in the magnetic force field that held us together. My heart no longer did somersaults, I could no longer feel it thrusting against the walls of my chest. Your touch felt frigid and calloused. There was no longer a twinkle in your eyes, just dilated pupils and acid tears.
I’m stuck with a fist full of memories and an irreversible past. I no longer wish I could go back and change everything. Like the way my screams echoed in your head like the ocean roar in your ears. The way I sank my claws into your flesh, and clipped your wings so you could not leave the nest.
I’ve accepted that I was a sick person who did sick things, and you are not a victim in the scheme of things. I can acknowledge both our faults, align them just right and take my hands off the steering wheel, because losing you is like an inevitable car crash. And here we are sitting in the front seats, arguing on why neither of us bothered to repair the engine. I tried to warn you that the brake lights were blown out, but it was all shattered glass and no seatbelts.
But here I am. Sitting in the bed we made love in; asking myself why I kept assuring myself that I was hurting so deeply, because we were loving so deeply. We both ignore each other’s warning signs. Dismissing red flags as if we were colorblind.
I never believed it was possible to fall out of love till I met you. I may always love you, but now I just don’t like you. I no longer dig into the cavities of my chest to find you deep within my tendons. We’ve grown into different people and I don’t like the traits you adopted to your new persona. I know you’ll never be yourself, just a form of someone else.
So this is me accepting the reality that I’ve been using our lack of closure, as a crutch to keep me from moving on.
I know the sinking feeling in my chest will decrease when I accept that our love was a bad recipe that called for white lies and white lines. The push and pull and lost track of time. The facade we built up in our minds. I can accept I’ll never get to hear the words goodbye.
But I can finally place my heart back in my chest. It’s a different kind of pain to realize I don’t miss you anymore.
I never believed in falling out of love till I saw your face under green lights in the corner of a cafe. I didn’t have to cover you up, I had to dig deep into the layers of blackened scar tissue and remove you from the marrow of my bones. You are now permanently out of reach from me. We’re measured in the Sun's distance from the equator. In all the games we played, I told myself I didn’t mind the occasional head trip. All things set aside I’m moving on, that’s the bottom line. And I feel happier. And I feel free. I had to patch the hole the size of your fist lingering in my chest. And all of this had to leave a gaping wound, so I could begin the healing process.
And I’ve finally realized that what we had was never love, just chemicals between us.
It was all ecstasy with an inevitable comedown that shattered the heart. But the spoonful of adrenaline we injected in each other’s veins was enough to put the pieces back together, as if they would ever fit the same. I found myself cutting my knees on all the broken pieces, while begging for your forgiveness. We were filled with sickness.
I memorized the atlas in your body, I traced the roadmaps hidden in your skin. I became the nerve endings moving along the wires in my body. And you were the drug pulsating through my bloodstream. What we had was euphoria, an incredible high filled with deep lows.
We kept returning to each other’s arms like waves. As if the currents could take the pain away.
I put you on a pedestal. I told myself you were God, and bathed in your tears like they were holy water. As if you could save me from the disease that centers in my mind. I thought you were the girl who shined my stars and lined my sky. I refused to see past the image I made you out to be.
You put a bookmark in my heart, expecting to find me where you left me.
The chapter ended much sooner than I wanted. I’m stuck with an ambiguous cliffhanger with no correct punctuation. I made you the main character in my story and that is where I went wrong. I became background noise in my own life. You were the puppeteer, pulling my heartstrings, assuring me the show must go on. Because the audience always applauds at the sight of our clasped hands. I started to wonder who we were keeping ourselves together for.
Our demise was abrupt. It didn’t happen slowly over time. We got absorbed in white powdered lines, and ‘having a good time’ off of nicotine and wine. The ***** on your breath was enough to make me dizzy. We put the chemicals in our bodies and there was a psychological change in the magnetic force field that held us together. My heart no longer did somersaults, I could no longer feel it thrusting against the walls of my chest. Your touch felt frigid and calloused. There was no longer a twinkle in your eyes, just dilated pupils and acid tears.
I’m stuck with a fist full of memories and an irreversible past. I no longer wish I could go back and change everything. Like the way my screams echoed in your head like the ocean roar in your ears. The way I sank my claws into your flesh, and clipped your wings so you could not leave the nest.
I’ve accepted that I was a sick person who did sick things, and you are not a victim in the scheme of things. I can acknowledge both our faults, align them just right and take my hands off the steering wheel, because losing you is like an inevitable car crash. And here we are sitting in the front seats, arguing on why neither of us bothered to repair the engine. I tried to warn you that the brake lights were blown out, but it was all shattered glass and no seatbelts.
But here I am. Sitting in the bed we made love in; asking myself why I kept assuring myself that I was hurting so deeply, because we were loving so deeply. We both ignore each other’s warning signs. Dismissing red flags as if we were colorblind.
I never believed it was possible to fall out of love till I met you. I may always love you, but now I just don’t like you. I no longer dig into the cavities of my chest to find you deep within my tendons. We’ve grown into different people and I don’t like the traits you adopted to your new persona. I know you’ll never be yourself, just a form of someone else.
So this is me accepting the reality that I’ve been using our lack of closure, as a crutch to keep me from moving on.
I know the sinking feeling in my chest will decrease when I accept that our love was a bad recipe that called for white lies and white lines. The push and pull and lost track of time. The facade we built up in our minds. I can accept I’ll never get to hear the words goodbye.
But I can finally place my heart back in my chest. It’s a different kind of pain to realize I don’t miss you anymore.
I never believed in falling out of love till I saw your face under green lights in the corner of a cafe. I didn’t have to cover you up, I had to dig deep into the layers of blackened scar tissue and remove you from the marrow of my bones. You are now permanently out of reach from me. We’re measured in the Sun's distance from the equator. In all the games we played, I told myself I didn’t mind the occasional head trip. All things set aside I’m moving on, that’s the bottom line. And I feel happier. And I feel free. I had to patch the hole the size of your fist lingering in my chest. And all of this had to leave a gaping wound, so I could begin the healing process.
