i don’t love you. i do know this isn’t love. love doesn’t go away you feeling empty, shredded. fragmented in items
that is unhappiness. heartache. time and again. breaking solely to restore, till you come to me within the breeze, in my nightmares and goals, in final evening’s hint of American Spirits and tough fingers towards my keen physique. scrolling by means of previous pictures and the instagrams of mutual mates. that is draining, and depleting, and demanding, and depilating. nauseating at how a lot i nonetheless crave you.
that is unrequited, unresponsive, unthinkable, unavailable, unmatchable love for somebody. for you. poetic in its tragedy of how a lot my coronary heart sinks when i consider you. i nonetheless search for looking when i keep in mind bumping into you. your contact nonetheless will get me excessive when my fingers graze a bit of you.
it’s the kind of story that folks inform at their wedding- how divine intervention collided them collectively, making it unattainable to overlook one another. that destiny and future should exist, and each model of this story ends with you and that i.
besides it’s an ending i’ll inform time and again. alone, damaged, gut-wrenching to the purpose of being unendurable. my daydreams complicated my hopes and actuality till the model i twirl is inseparable.
i can’t get to whisper it to our youngsters and gush about how i knew you’d be one of the best dad the second i kissed you. i can’t inform it amongst mates and cherry-noted merlot. it isn’t you who i’ll name with my day by day excellent news, to debate the mundane life actions. it isn’t you that my crimson lips with kiss, colours of permanence.
so as an alternative, i inform it to myself. time and again and over. till the circles i spin twirl my coronary heart right into a knot to maintain it from rising any extra love for you.