wiseMusings

I loved you,

and you forgot me.

At some point

in space and time,

I ceased to exist

in your world.

I became a ghost,

something that you

could digitally ignore

even as my flesh and

blood pined for you.

And it hurts.

It hurts that I’m here,

calling out into the air,

calling for you

to comfort me

and make it better…

but you’re not coming.

No matter how much

noise I make,

no matter how many

mountains I move

to try and get

to you,

you’ll just place

some more

between you and I.

Because you no longer

want to be found.

You no longer want me.

December was two months ago,

and you were here.

I’d go Back to December a gazillion times if I could.

We smiled, we slept.

We hugged, we healed

the scars

that were caused by

your absence.

It was all so delicate.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the last time we spoke,

the last time you truly

laid yourself bare for me

to see

and I tried to comfort

you with the words

I had in my mind.

But they weren’t enough,

were they?

I was always going to be

that person,

“the best person you

ever met”,

but the last person you

want to hear from.

I’ve placed it all

on the line for you.

It was my love,

then my patience.

When that wasn’t enough,

it was my pride

and my self-respect.

I put it all in your

hands

just for us to survive.

Just so I could

have you for

one more day.

And that was on me.

It was my bad,

my mistake,

my error.

I fucked up this time.

I just wanted to talk to you.

About the Royal

Rumble, about

music, about our

futures, about

everything that

matters,

and some things

that don’t.

Because you are my

best friend.

(Or were).

And not just that.

You were my love,

my companion,

my poem-writer,

my video-caller,

my song-sharer,

my best friend,

my confidant.

You were my one.

Once.

And it looks like

there will never be

a twice

in a lifetime

for us.

You’re not The Rock,

I’m not Cena.

I can’t smell what you’re

cooking today,

and you can see me.

You can see my heart

wanting to beat for you,

but grieving yet again

for the silent space

that always seems to exist

between us.

And you promised

that it would be

The Last Time

you left me

without coming back,

but you lied.

For someone who

I trusted

with my whole

being,

you lied to me.

And I could handle it all:

the silence,

the nonchalance,

the betrayal.

It’s the lie,

the one thing

you wouldn’t have

done to me

once upon a time,

that let me know

I’m a puzzle piece

that no longer

fits right into yours.

You’re a new person now.

And maybe you had to be,

to deal with your grief.

That new person sounds

like the old you so much,

that I got fooled

by the chemistry

and the ease

that was once our

calling card.

But now the card is

a red one,

and it’s telling me

to stop where I am.

It’s telling me that

I shouldn’t go where

I’m not wanted.

And you warned me

that I’ll get hurt again.

You warned me that

I’ll get hurt even worse in

the future.

I wonder if you had this

planned.

Knowing you,

you didn’t.

Knowing you,

you’re just a human

who made a choice

and that choice was to

exclude me.

And I keep trying to

show you that

it doesn’t have to be

this way,

but maybe it does.

Maybe relationships

take two people

to work,

like a heart pumping

blood to the body.

And when the heart

no longer has the

strength or ability

to go on,

the link it has

to the body is

null and void.

I think your heart has

stopped pumping

affection or interest

for me,

and no matter how much

I want it not to be true,

it is.

And just like that,

I’ve lost you again.

And this time,

I have all the closure

I need

to know that

you won’t be back

for me.

You won’t text me out

of nowhere

and say that you

love me,

and that you’re sorry,

and that the past

is past,

and we should think

about our future

together.

That all won’t happen.

I’m one person poorer now.

I’m one love less now.

And I meet you in my dreams,

holding my body into yours

into a tight embrace

and I convince myself

for a tiny second

that you came back to me.

That you moved those mountains

when you saw me turn away,

and you decided

my smile was one you

couldn’t live without.

But then I wake up

every morning,

and my chest feels this

pang of emptiness

because I now know

it was all just a dream,

the ramblings of my

idealistic imagination.

You’re out there,

living your life,

battling your demons

without ever thinking

that I could be your

tag team partner.

I wonder how your days are.

If you’re happy,

if you’re sad,

if you’re coping,

if you’re not.

Do you think about me?

Do you wish to tell me

how much you love me?

Because I do.

I do that, all the

goddamn time.

And the times that I

don’t

are the times that I’ve

strangled my consciousness

into so much distraction

that I don’t have to think

about you.

You’re my strength.

I’m better because of you.

But the opposite is also true:

you’re my weakness.

I’m worse because of you.

And there will always

be a piece of me

that hopes that you

return for me.

In many ways,

I’ll be right where

you left me.

Because that’s where my

true happiness lies.

But until then

(if it ever happens)

I have to summon

my resilience again,

after being so glad

that I could trust again.

The armour must come out

of the closet,

and I must once again

be the cold philosopher

who attains it all,

but who never cares for it

because it’s not what

gives him the most joy.

It’s not

who

gives him the most joy

but it’ll have to do.

Because it’s time to go.