I try less everyday to miss you
But at this juncture it's the only issue of
beating hearts and broken names we no longer call each other by
You go back to the way you were and I return to my anti-reality where
You were as real as my future
The notes flat and the song overplayed and the ink run and dried up until
The paper is permanently disfigured like something else I know all too well
The sheets changed and a different colour than when you were on them and
The bedframe rickety from how you (me? we?) shook its foundations
and every trip to the bathroom involves in-depth soul-searching in the fogged up mirror
because I lost half of it (soul, not mirror or virginity) when I realised I lost you
and every fall on the floor makes me cry because its over as quickly as when we fell in love
where every thing that has nothing to do with you does now and I am powerless to stop it
because although books and motivational speakers have such faith in me
I have none in myself
least of all when it comes to you and how my heart is breaking over the span of my entire life
you choose to ignore it and write it off as the torn magazine that you could never check out of the library
the best part of it all is how it never happened and
how i'm hearing things
seeing things
feeling things
that never quite existed.