Jun 2018
It's been 254 days and I still miss you
I start to miss you. But I don't miss you. I miss the person you once were. Before fighting became our most common language. Before I love you's we're just words you could look up in a dictionary. Before our dreams flatlined and we were scared to talk because we knew.. it would only get worse. For perhaps we took it for granted and only accepted the love we think we deserved at the time. Perhaps our late night talks were just ways to avoid falling asleep. To avoid feeling alone and hyperventilating in the dark. Perhaps we used each other to heal our wounds. But I believe we did no healing. No. I believe we covered them up. We covered them like a sweater in soft spoken words and anticipation of joy. it made it hurt a little less. For we knew, that nothing lasts forever and we'd have to remove the shield protecting us from the harsh blows of the world. Perhaps it was love and perhaps it was a lie. And maybe you faked it. And maybe it was an act or a plan. But perhaps, it was real. No one plans on falling in love. Perhaps we liked the comfort of one another. To feel in a spot of security and protection. And you think love is a beautiful thing. And you skip down halls and you pick petals that curve towards you and you hum while washing the dishes and you open doors for others and you give the love, given to you. But perhaps love is the disguise. Because my "I love yous" were true. While yours bled doubt. And the sting of it still lasts as it should. It's called heartbreak. And it's everywhere. stuck like honey on my hands. It rings a sad melody in my ear. It drips from the roof after a cold bitter day. It's the child you saw trip and the mom who came to help with tears in her own eyes. Perhaps that's why we cry at the sad dramatic movies. Not because it's sad but because being in that position, ourselves.. well.. love isn't chocolate on Valentine's Day nor the flowers or the bears. Love is rectangles fitting into circles and artificial flavoring now with vitamins that cure diseases. its like a miracle. but it's twisted and has more effect on you. t's not a word or a story or a feeling. Love is love. So as this started as my plea to you and transitioned to what we were to what love is.. I see now that not even this can bring back the feeling of being so called, love.
I start to miss you. But I don't miss you. I miss the person you once were. Before fighting became our most common language. Before I love you's we're just words you could look up in a dictionary. Before our dreams flatlined and we were scared to talk because we knew.. it would only get worse. For perhaps we took it for granted and only accepted the love we think we deserved at the time. Perhaps our late night talks were just ways to avoid falling asleep. To avoid feeling alone and hyperventilating in the dark. Perhaps we used each other to heal our wounds. But I believe we did no healing. No. I believe we covered them up. We covered them like a sweater in soft spoken words and anticipation of joy. it made it hurt a little less. For we knew, that nothing lasts forever and we'd have to remove the shield protecting us from the harsh blows of the world. Perhaps it was love and perhaps it was a lie. And maybe you faked it. And maybe it was an act or a plan. But perhaps, it was real. No one plans on falling in love. Perhaps we liked the comfort of one another. To feel in a spot of security and protection. And you think love is a beautiful thing. And you skip down halls and you pick petals that curve towards you and you hum while washing the dishes and you open doors for others and you give the love, given to you. But perhaps love is the disguise. Because my "I love yous" were true. While yours bled doubt. And the sting of it still lasts as it should. It's called heartbreak. And it's everywhere. stuck like honey on my hands. It rings a sad melody in my ear. It drips from the roof after a cold bitter day. It's the child you saw trip and the mom who came to help with tears in her own eyes. Perhaps that's why we cry at the sad dramatic movies. Not because it's sad but because being in that position, ourselves.. well.. love isn't chocolate on Valentine's Day nor the flowers or the bears. Love is rectangles fitting into circles and artificial flavoring now with vitamins that cure diseases. its like a miracle. but it's twisted and has more effect on you. t's not a word or a story or a feeling. Love is love. So as this started as my plea to you and transitioned to what we were to what love is.. I see now that not even this can bring back the feeling of being so called, love.
