our falling apart isn’t like having heartbreak lines sitting on my chest, waiting to be written when i wake up and realize you’re gone. it isn’t like sinking into the absence of your coffee-scented lips on my temple, or walking into a dust storm caught in the sunbeams in your room. it isn’t like those cold, two a.m. nights where you find yourself singing stay with derek sanders and breaking down into a puddle of unbearable pain, hoping that each guitar strum will take you away from our memories.
no, our falling apart isn’t like that. it isn’t immaculate.
it isn’t an indie-film-kinda-heartbreak, nor is it poetic.
you see, we fell apart simply because you loved me — you loved me so fucking much, darling.
and i wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.