You would think that I would be able to write again with a broken heart, but even poetry is non exist. Lately all I do is lie to myself that I'm okay. I keep lying. You keep leaving.
I keep saying the words I love you as if I am going to get a reply, but you and I both know that you won't say it back. So I'll just keep whispering the words "I love you."
At least for another 9 months because to you I don't exist and to me you are only a memory I keep trying to relive and visit.
I still love you though. I still think you are perfect for me. I still picture a future with you and little kids of our own. I still convince myself that this pain is necessary because most say that the heart breaks with a beautiful kind of pain, but this time there is nothing beautiful about it. This time is the second.
And the second time hurts worse than the first.
The last kiss might actually be the last, and more time is needed in allowing the heart to heal.
& today is only the 3rd day that I haven't had you, that you haven't been mine. I haven't been able to hug or kiss you. We haven't talked and I think I am starting to go crazy. Every day I will randomly picture your smile and imagine your forehead kisses and this "beautiful" kind of pain is the ugliest pain there ever was and ever will be. What is beautiful about being second when everyone is screaming that I should be first? I tell myself second isn't that bad. Second is only one away from first. At least I wasn't third or fourth because that's when I would start to wonder, but I guess I have already started to wonder.
I guess I've already started to wonder if you're worth it because everyone keeps telling me you're not.
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