That one
Sometimes, I think about where we’ve come from. We have seen every ugly part of each other. Each twisted spine and cracked surface. And we have seen the beautiful parts. Each delicate beat of a butterfly wing and exhale of a fawn in the middle of a frosty woods. We were everything. Consumed in each other and clinging to to every piece.
Until there was nothing left to grasp and it all fell to the floor in a pile of dust.
It was okay for a while. I thought long and hard and contemplated for hours, creating algorithms and theoretics.
But in the end, it was not the falling apart that left scars on my insides and outsides alike. No. Instead, it was the fact that no matter how many ways I fed myself excuses, my mouth refused to take them up. My body would not ingest them. Their toxicity levels were much too high. Realization strikes and the breath leaves my body.
You never loved me.
Instead, you loved the idea that someone could love you for all that you are, were, and ever will be. You loved that I was proud of you no matter what happened and knew that, one day, you would be happy.
I just wished that I had realized earlier that you could never be happy with me.
And the worst part about this whole thing, is that you aren’t the only one. There are multiple who could read these words and feel the sting that they may cause. I guess I’m just used to being a big lump of bloody flesh and broken bones. I’m used to being the one who loves so much that my object of affection slips through my fingers, just when I thought I had it forever in my grasp.
I’m used to being that one.
