Buen luto

If I ever made sense of anything you did to me I’d simply call it psychosis because nothing you ever said or did was real and I was on autopilot pivoting through versions of my life that weren’t depressing and disappointing….i keep opening and knocking on doors but you can’t open them up. I’m hated and demonised but I promise you I’m the holiest thing you ever constructed, light blurred through you, I became the most special thing about you.

I’m a note on your nightstand, the reason you might not find peace or the reason you feel it and I’m not sure of the idea of me creeping around in your head or if I’m dancing around a flame waiting to burn away come summer time but either way I was in your mind and I followed you throughout both good and bad and I hope you sleep easier these days regardless.

No longer waiting, more of an expectation and prediction.

There was a time where I waited more intensely, now I just wait modestly at the edge of my seat for you to return, knowing you won’t come back. I thought the universe fought for me but maybe that looks like keeping you far away.