encore et encore

“So how’s life?”

You tried as best as you could. I saw it through the aches and pains that came from loving you. It showed in the hurt I harvested through it. So when you left there wasn’t much left but I wore my wounds like some sort of decoration on my chest. So now you’re gone and sometimes I forget. On the days when my mind is stronger than my heart and manages to differentiate between one thing and the other- it is hard to remember that you have tried. It is hard to give you the acknowledgment you deserve for it. When they ask about us, I am not the first to take hands to something that ended in ruins. I am not the one to applaud for what has happened here. Yes, you loved me. Yes, you tried. But no, that sometimes even, is not enough.

My deplorable mania for analysis exhausts me. I doubt everything, even my doubt.

People get tired of you being sad.