you pick up the pen and paper you gently write 'dear mother dear father'
on the paper telling them why. why you had to leave why you couldn't do it you pick up the bottle you think 'just one more letter' you pick back up the pan and paper writing 'dear best friend' telling her/him how sorry you are words spill out on the paper you write so many letters you stare at them thinking of how many people will miss you how many people will cry that night you ripped up the papers and threw them away if you have letters you have reasons.
you see though I only would write 5 letters. I dont think they will cry.

maybe the worst part is
that I've let them all down again
my cat sits patiently by the door
waiting for you to walk through it
my mother beamed and gushed
about how happy she was for me,
"Finally!"
maybe we got too ahead of ourselves
and believed in each other too much
taking the world with us on the way up
and then too when we came crashing down

even if you can feel it
you never know
when it will be the last time
when it will end
not really
kiss them a second longer
linger in the doorway
look back and wave
love with all you have
whenever you can
you never know

One by one
the list gets longer.
Promises of friendship
turn into nothing more than tourism.
The word "goodbye"
has built a permanent home
On the tip of my tongue.
But despite the familiarity,
It still leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth.
Will it always be like this?

Breakups don’t make sense to me. Am I just supposed to feel nothing now? To erase all the time we spent together, the memories etched into my mind, the quiet promises whispered in the dark? Am I meant to set it all on fire, pretending you don’t cross my thoughts with every breath I take? As if love is just a fleeting phase, something that vanishes as easily as it began. Am I supposed to suddenly hate you, to force down the feelings still rooted in my chest? Forget the warmth of your hand in mine, our fingers laced together against the chill of the world? What about the dreams we built, reshaping our futures to fit one another? Is “moving on” some sort of magic trick? Or is it a spell no one’s ever taught me, some dark art that hides the ache beneath tangled overgrowth? Do the feelings ever really die, or do they just lie buried, choked out by weeds where flowers once bloomed? The silence left in their place is deafening, and I can’t understand how hearts can simply unravel. How love, once so vivid, can close its eyes to everything it defined. How am I supposed to walk away when the echoes of what we had still call me back?

Sometimes there isn't a reason why.
Sometimes you just have to sit in the pain.
Let it wash over you like rain.

Sometimes the villain wins.
With no justice in sight.

It's hard to watch a person that hurt you.
Get everything you want.

Sometimes people are people.
With their own flaws and faults.

Some are bad.
Some are good.
Sone stand in between.

You never know which one you'll meet.
Till they show the running colours underneath.
That you wish you would have never seen.

Some goodbyes are sweet.
Wishing you well.
Others are bitter.

Leaving scars in your memory.
Sometimes just sometimes.
People are people.
They can't help who they are.

Sometimes you can try to change.
To rearrange them.

Sometimes you just can't.

His potential love
Hurt
Because of the lifetime she spent
Creating an imagined story
That won’t ever be in flesh
First the death of a dream
And then the goodbye itself
Now time to reflect
And learn
Perhaps