It was foggy today.
It reminded me of how you never really opened to me, not out of fear, but for leverage to hold over my head.
Was I never enough? Surely it was something to you; it was everything to me.
It was foggy, and I thought of your sleep glazed eyes and expensive existence.
I wondered if you were sick of it yet, the feeling of betrayal that should sit in your gut.
Because you are smart, always the smartest one, and you know to play the parts to stay that way.
Was I a part you played?
The fog suffocated me and I knew there was no hope for us.
I knew that tomorrow would be worse than today because you had that war brewing inside you.
I knew that no matter how many lyrics we sent each other's way, nothing would get better.
No stupid piece of poetic perfection was going to cleanse our sins, and
neither of us were willing to change that.
It was foggy today, and as I was dying, I had one thought:
At least it wasn't rain.
