Why do I even try anymore? All I ever end up getting are the
monotone recordings telling me to leave you a message you’ll never
return, conversations with myself when all I really need is someone like
you to tell me that I still matter, that what we had still counts for
something, a single word I end up sending myself because I know
somewhere deep inside that’s all I’m ever going to see under your
number.
My heart breaks with every failed attempt. Not because I know that
you’ll never get back to me, but because somewhere deep in the millions
of little pieces that you left behind of what used to be my solid heart,
love still lies that will never be returned.
And I know I’m just a fool to hold onto the illusion of what used to
be. I know I’m crazy for still caring even after you broke your most
vital promise. I gave you my heart to cherish with all the love and
care I thought you possessed. But that’s why you loved me once. You
loved me because I was different from anyone else you’d ever met, I gave
you something that no one else could. Something you told me you’d hold
onto until we were old and gray. And stupidly I thought the same of
you.
I guess my worst fear has been realized. You’re just like all the
rest who left me a pile of ashes in their wake of annoyance and
frustration. All those laughs and promises are nothing but floods of
tears and lies.
My angels have now lost their wings and I’m stuck here wondering why I
even try and give people like you a chance. Why, when every ounce I
put in just gets thrown right back in my face? I thought you were
different. It turns out I was wrong about that too.
Why do I let my heart break for those who don’t even care enough to
see it be repaired? Am I just supposed to lay here and bleed until
eventually I turn blue in the face and can’t form words anymore? Why do
I let myself hurt over you? Oh that’s right. I’m wounded and scarred
because you took a knife to my heart, threw it to the ground and left it
there. You left it broken and you don’t even see how badly.
Not that you care. I’m just a wacko who’s extra cautious. Something
you can’t stand anymore. I thought you knew this. I thought you
understood that I can’t be perfect, that the books I carry tell a
history that’s too painful to repeat. After everything I’ve done you
just leave me stranded.
Now I have to start fresh. Somehow I must wipe my memory free of
everything we’ve ever done, all the places we’ve ever been because I
know I’ll never look at them the same way after you’ve touched them. I
have to forget your voice, your presence, what you look like, how your
arms feel around me when we hug. How do I do it? How can I possibly,
when everywhere I turn you’re there?
Now my sanctuaries bring me to tears. The few places I can feel safe
and at ease are the places I can’t stand to be because you were there.
The songs that are supposed to relax me, have me screaming the lyrics
as they catch in my throat because you were the one to show them to me.
Is it so wrong of me to have hoped that you’d be a different song to
sing, a different book to read? Something in me wont let me throw them
out. I’m just going to have to hide them somewhere, some place even I
can’t find them. I have to move on. I can’t stand the pain. Even
though that’s exactly what you did in walking away with the lights
turned out. Over time I’ll find someone with a strong enough flashlight
to lead me out of this darkness.
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