i guess i was the one
foolish enough to believe
that maybe
we might have made it,
to prove fate wrong
and outlive even our own fears.
now i see that i
was just another form
of therapy to you,
an escape from the every day
a hiding place from your demons.
i wish i had realised
that i was just another idea
before i pulled down my walls
one brick at a time,
forgetting that my heart
was only ever
made from paper.