( 𝒂/𝒏 — its 8 pm, i have been listening to this song since 5 to understand it to get inspo, but it reminds me of my ex, im irritated gbye. )
𝑴att. The sweet, perfect loving boyfriend that any girl could ever ask for, so why did it always end up like this? Why did you always argue? You stand outside, wind blowing in your hair, sticking to your tear smudged face, trying to remember you and Matt's loving moments, but only your ignorance shows. He isn’t standing anymore; he’s collapsed onto his knees, his frame trembling. Tears well in his eyes, shimmering under the dim light as he struggles to hold them back. He looks utterly defeated, the weight of your arguments crushing the light out of him. You’re the source of his exhaustion, yet he remains there, attached to a love that feels like a fading memory. You are still his, despite the silence. You shut your eyes, trying to not see the gut-wrenching sight of Matt in your mind, still persistent on you. Both of you. The wind is cold, raising goosebumps on your skin unconsciously, but you can't feel them through the depth of your thoughts.
"𝑩aby, I know we're not doing good as we've been, but I swear I'll be better." He says, his pale blue eyes looking at your frame, expecting you to turn back and give him a reluctant, reassuring kiss that you wouldn't be like this again. But you stay there, your hands on both sides of the rail, head down. "𝑴att, please understand. It's me, I'm the problem." You say, tears escaping, facing him now. He shakes his head, "𝑵o, baby. You're 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 a lovable girl to me, " he says, looking down, watching his own tears fall. "If anything, it should be 𝘮𝘦 trying to understand you."
𝒀ou hate that you make loving you feel like chasing a ghost. You’re a chaotic mess one minute and completely soft the next, speaking a language he constantly has to struggle to translate. But beneath the silence you’ve put between you both, you're still his. Your misalignment with each other's emotional understanding having a big toll on your relationship.
𝒀ou looked up at the moon, knowing you were like it. A inconsistent lover. One night it is full, bold, and blindingly sweet, bathing the world in euphoric silvers of light. The next, it hides behind a cloud, leaving the world in the cold, hollow dark, like where you stood. Matt pleads, the lovable, sweet version of you blinding the emotionless version of you, and when he spoke to you, he was talking to a void. But when the moon does return, that thin, shy sliver of a crescent—it is so achingly beautiful that the world forgives the absence. It’s a rhythmic heartbreak, always leaving, always coming back home. But Matt will always have his arms out open for you. But for now, you had to work on yourself, walking out of the room, out of the house. Walking under that balcony you were on, Matt standing here, crying fully now.
2087
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