The crack was practically audible,
with every hour came a new fracture.
The ceiling fan mocks me as old pictures gleam from any place
my impulses can project them off of.

I think there is a fifth sense when it comes to these kinds of things,
where silence is more telling than really anything.
Though this is a feeling i have felt before,
it is much different this time.

Past me did not know love like i do now.
It's funny to say that though.

First time i fell, every inch of me was certain it was forever.
This time i was much less naive,
and did not believe that to be the case at all.
I knew better.
With such a safety net you would think this would be a walk in the park, yet it is inexplicably worse.

I now watch him slip out of my fingers,
and though i want to fight i know i should let it go if it does not want to stay.
I only wish i knew how?