Notes to a stranger.

Toys and Clouds

Every moment I spend staring out of the window searching for your gaze in the clouds is a waste of time , I will never find it.  Pink, purple and blue skies above me as I breathe in the delicate peace that surrounds me, I almost suffocate on your sweetness but something tells me I should keep my guard up.

I should have listened, I should have followed my instincts, at least that part of me knew you were trouble. The memories burden my shoulders like heavyweight bricks, slamming on my back, but I can't walk, I can't move at all. You've stopped me, ripped my soul in half. And you deny it.

Maybe what you felt was true, I know I felt like I knew you,  you fooled me good. I hope you're proud, I'm an achievement, another trophy to add to your endless list. 

You can say you're sorry, that you didn't mean to, it wasn't you're intention; I know, I'm too good for you.  That's it, that's the one, damage something, tape it back together, good as new right?
No.

The cracks will still be there, you've left your mark, you're fine though, your scars have burnt you so much you barely feel pain anymore, I doubt you feel anything.
I feel bad for you for not loving, even worse for you going back to the same thing you once lost  but can't accept.
So, expectedly, you search for something, someone to fill that void, temporarily because creating another one would be too much to cope.  Have your thirty odd toys, use them once, throw them away; go back for another try once in a while, who knows?

One thing is most definitely certain, you won't be having me again. Your lies don't fool me anymore, they don't carve in to me like they used to, I'm stronger now.  Karma will come back for you.

You'll enjoy your peace, find yourself lonely and play with seven toys at a time, like a small undecided child. Except you're not a small child, you're a grown man and your toys are your women.  Player, manwhore.

You'll lose soon, someone will play your own game against you better than you can play it yourself. May you lose that majestic strut, full of confidence, full of yourself. 

Maybe then you'll realise the insecurity that rolls off you in waves, tidal waves. You're too broken to help yourself so you wound others.

I bet the person who broke you is just like you, I feel sorry for them too, as I feel sorry for you.

Seeing you now, I laugh. I'm better, I've found better. I'm not your toy, I'm happy, in the arms of another. We're on cloud nine and you're still the same old child playing with your toys.