His name resonates in my head and my soul and I feel it building in my chest, attaching itself to my tongue and leaving my lips and I am more than sure there is no room for another in any of these places. I was alive in his arms and I am lost without, trapped between the few spaces left in my compacted mind, harboring thoughts I cannot bare to think as he fades into broken memories and moments intertwining with aching brain cells and chemical imbalances. He has made it quite clear that I am nothing more than a burden to leave as he hurls me from his tired shoulders and walks as if I never stood beside him; laughs as if I never laughed with him, smiles as if I never caused it; for Christ's sake, the sole reason for my breathing was to endow him with the very passion that overcame me when he would say my name, I am blind to any image besides his sweet face as I fall so gently from the building in which he has expelled me; my ******* heart is tearing and my ribs are splitting as I drift to my demise. I think I feel like cutting open my hollowed chest just to step out of this filthy frame; your touch was nothing. *******, I thought this was love, but you're just another notch in the belt around my neck.

There are people on this earth who are voluntarily bland, or even worse - blissfully unaware of their undisputed mediocrity. And then there's him, a wide-eyed vision of love who walks as if he is carefully lead by angels. If I ever was to obtain the seemingly inconceivable privilege of calling him mine, I'd have the world in my hands, an irreplaceable efflorescence at my very fingertips. I dream of what "I love you" might sound like coming from his sweet lips and how flawlessly he would speak my name. I wonder if he understands the way in which his essence fills a room and why I'd give anything to perpetually melt in his gentle embrace. I've been aching for the chance to tell him that his smile looks the way God feels and how I'm convinced that heaven is simply his presence; I'd climb all seven levels of hell just to crawl into his arms.

I imagined myself obliterated by an incessant line of cars and how that would almost correspond with what I was feeling right now. I pictured God dismembering my soul again and again, wondering where He went wrong , where He missed a stitch or tore a seam; but if He doesn't make mistakes, then why am I here?

“Close your eyes and tell me where you see yourself in 5 years,” I asked. He lowered his head and relieved his frustration with a long, drawn out sigh. He fought his ill intent, I fought my evident tears. What had happened to such a beautiful us, we discussed, the hours were dragging on as he dragged me so carelessly along. He wanted out, and I knew. The words escaped him for a brief moment, I presumed, as he opened his mouth and so very still became the room; “You are not who I once loved,” he said, “I’m sorry to say, I’ve outgrown you. Your pettiness, your insecure heart, mind, soul, it all pains me; you are the death of us. I have dealt with your sadness; your ache, I have since felt, and continue to feel. I’ve had enough. Here’s your reason. Here’s your ******* closure.” I clutched his wrist tightly and my chest even tighter before he could detach himself for good, and, I tell you, the air eluding my lungs had actually sped up the beating of that ever-weary heart of mine, and the color had to be leaving my grief-stricken face as the expression of his was now a bit concerning, less demeaning, and my world, it was turning, violently, now black from the outside in. He said it, my fears conveyed in the utterance of such hurtful terms. He was so wrong, I was so loving, and I had been screaming inside for months now and the shrill echo had finally made it’s way to my throat, my small voice now belted, “You have wronged me, and I have loved you. You have lied, you have cheated, you have robbed me of a healthy love, you are not what it’s meant to be. I loved you with the utmost compassion I had to offer; I am troubled, I know, and I am trying. You will never see me grow, my potential, you will miss. In all sincerity, good luck to you in your new endeavor, for a lover, a heart to call home, who will hold you when you’re feeling lost and cry with you when you are spent; someone who will care for your tattered mind in the most tender of ways, forever and again. What you had in me was rare, and I hope to God you can find it out there, once more. So, this is it, 4 long years under my breath. I cared for the depths of your very being and it was exhausting. I am running on empty, here’s the ending you wanted; our story is being unwritten, I will erase and erase as I no longer desire you. This, this is my ******* closure.” I left my skin, my frame, I was floating, it was over. It was raining, I moved slower. Now, onto better things.