I wished on every first and fallen star for your existence.
When I had you, I let the starts rest.
When I lost you, I called to them again.
I will wish until the last star burns out, to hold you in my arms once more.

A cure. This ailment. Silence. Forced pleasantries. Mumbled spite. More pleasantries. Feigned ignorance. Disapproving looks. Sever. This ailment. No cure.

I know not every girl has a 'break up' box.
I know I do.

It's full of useless pieces of paper.
Movie tickets.
Parking receipts.
Itineraries.

It's full of meaningless pieces of junk.
A broken bracelet.
A sad Domo figure.
A bottle.

Useless. Meaningless.

They meant so much to me.
As did you.

That parking ticket was the last thing I got before you broke me.
That bottle was the last thing your lips touched before you left.
That bracelet you won for me at a pub quiz.
That movie ticket marked the first time you held my hand.

And now, I look at this box.
One that held so much pain.
I wish I could say I feel better, now.
But,
I feel...
Nothing.

I don't feel the need to be entertained.
I just enjoy your proximity.

And even with your unmeaning insulting,
I just feel the need to impress.

No pressure.

I don't feel the need to be adored.
I just like when you talk to me.

And even with your condescending intelligence,
I just feel the need to impress.

No pressure.

I don't feel the need to always touch, taste, kiss, and hold you...

No pressure.

You asked me to marry you.
I thought you were joking
The days I want that question to be true,
Are the days I practice signing my new last name.

You asked me to marry you.
I still think you're joking.
The times I wish my fairytale could be true, are the times we spend countless hours talking.

You asked me to marry you.
I...don't know if you're joking.
But the adventures we could have, and the love I could give you would be endless.

You asked me to marry you.
I said yes.

If I knew you were still in love with someone else.
Yet you told me time and time again how much you actually loved me.
My heart would break.

If I told you I was still in love with someone else.
Yet told you time and time again how I actually loved you too.
Would your heart break like mine?

What if it's true?
What if your heart isn't mine.
What if my heart isn't yours.