Dear Moon,
Writing to you has to be one of the most painful things I’ve talked myself into doing.
My days consist of thoughts revolving around everything I’ve wanted to yell out to you;
All the angst and pent up hurt that still shadows me to this day, some of which are:
I hate you
I hate that I trusted you
I hate that I opened up
I hate that I gave you more of me than I did anyone else
Love,
Was always something I saw as beauty with flowers and Spring, Summer day’s
But now all I seem to see is anger;
Cold, winter nights and old, creaked abandoned houses.
I had never wanted to rip my heart out, as much as I do right now,
Because even if all I feel is the emptiness, the remnants of your love still lingers,
And I still see traces of you in everything my mind conjures.
Your shirt still lays in my closet and it has taken all of my willpower not to rip it to shreds,
But it has also taken everything in me,
Not to put it on and cry myself to sleep.
The last time my eyes met yours,
I knew it would be the last.
A part of me believes that the universe speaks to me whenever someone is about to leave me,
And I think the accident was the reassurance I needed to let you go.
Our love started with such a passion that at some point we burned the world unaware of the scars that currently mark our skin.
No matter how many times I vowed to let you go, a part of me always ran back to you, tugged at your shirt and looked you in the eyes, hoping you’d take me back, broken and too fragile to care for myself.
No matter how many times I tried ignoring the thoughts that warned me to quit you, put my walls up, and shield myself, I still never listened
And here I am,
all i’m left with are a couple of love songs, but not enough love
All I’m left with, is a broken soul,
Only encapsulating numbness as if a guest at a hotel, occupying a vacant room.

What pains me most is,
You once looked at me as if I were an art piece adorning the walls of a gallery,
Yet now,
Your eyes barely wash over me, as if I have become nonexistent, irrelevant

It is time I take back the power I so humbly gave to you, by calling you the Moon to my night sky
You do not lighten up the darkest parts of me anymore, you create mazes where I fall farther into darker holes.
Thank you for all the broken words you showered me with
I have learned not to dedicate my words to people
No one deserves the pretty words I construct into sentences, paragraphs, or even poems.

To A love I thought was Always, but turned out to be within numbered days,

-Angel