When I didn't know you, you seemed like perfection.
You were a dream, but not one that paraded itself above all and resided in the clouds; one that walked among the rest of us.
I didn't know it then, but it turns out I'm a lighthouse for things like that.
Vulnerable, and easy to overpower with daydreams.
For I didn't know I had the capability of associating with a vessel encrusted with such vast amounts of beauty and recognition.
It must be for how I cling to possibilities and l either latch on with every dying ounce of strength I possess, or I let go and latch on to another.
I thought you were something more to me than you were to yourself, that I was lucky enough to find someone so completing.
I should have known not to throw all my hope toward you because few have ever protected it.
You struggled but you ended up leaving most mass of my hope behind.
You let me sink under my own assurances and left me with certainty that you were not the being I had thought you were, but a coward in a mask.
Even when you left my hope behind you couldn't fathom what was wrong, let alone at the expense of your hands.
You made me believe that the hope I had trusted you with was too great a burden to carry and that I am the downfall faced by those who can't support it.
You were not the perfection I thought you were, and I've latched to a vessel of more promise.
It's your turn to let go.
