It hurts to say I've lost you. And what remains is not but a memory, not even the shadow that solemnly seeps through my door, but rather the thought that once upon a time, we had it all. And due credit to fact, we were happy once. We were truly, utterly happy. And the complications of our love were existent, yes, however they were never close to breaking the fine line that held us together; we were inseparable.
Yet who would’ve known that the one and only force that would break the tide was you?
I didn’t see it coming, that's for sure. Whatever happened that day came out of the blue, and it hit me by surprise. It was your last week there, so granted I do appreciate your courage to put a halt to our adventure, but the method of your execution was enthralling. Cold. Dead.
I'd pull myself together after you left, because what use was it to run after you after all? Our inseparable and uncontrollable love had evaporated at the instant I kneeled down to speak to you. Now all that was left was my reconstruction, from the dirt up, and what a rocky ride that was.
To know that what I had was simple discontinued right there and then was a thought unconceivable to my being. It was over.
Fast forward a couple of years. We seem to have finally broken loose of our past traumatic experience and carried on with our lives. Well, that same cannot be said of me.
I tend to have relapses, accidentally allow that one moment to shove itself from the catacombs of my consciousness, and present itself headfirst. The issue of that matter lies not on the manifestation of that concept of our love to live again, but the fact that I allow myself to think in such a way.
I am the cause of my own pain, and as much as I should blame you for it, the guilt calls only to my name.
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