i am sick of writing about you all the time.
my thoughts of you and the words that i write are intertwined,
and trying to unravel your ghost from my memories feels nearly impossible.

you are tattooed on my heart,
and with each thump a new line is generated-

thump
the heartbreak you have left me in feels like a maze i cannot find my way out of

thump
do you still find me as beautiful as you once did?

thump
i know that in my eyes you have never lost your charm

but i am sick of writing about you all the time.
because i am sick of feeling like this.
feeling like the entirety of my existence is so fragile,
depending on you to make me feel as if it is actually worth something,
depending on you to continue to reciprocate the feelings i have shared with you
even though deep inside i know that you are tired too.
tired of the see-saw like motions of our relationship...
even though, in our ups we felt like the king & queen of the world,
in our downs you no longer saw the point;
no longer see the point in trying to mend something you claim to be eternally broken.

am i sick for still trying?
why do i still allow myself to break my own heart over you?
is it because i still see potential where you see debris?

our love went up in flames,
and i think that we both tried to save as much of ourselves as we could from the fire...
save so much of ourselves
that we forgot about each other.