Some old school song is playing on a battered radio as I finally begin to shatter for the fourth time that week.
You need to know,I'm not angry anymore. I'm not sorry either- you tore me apart with two fingers and breath against my skin. My rage is not uncalled for,but your disappearance is.
You need to know : in my dreams you're still on my arms at 4:55am and we used to laugh at our mistakes and it's all the same out there
You need to know that your silence says more than your words ever could. I wish I could fill up the empty hum in my heart where you used to reside,but then I realised you are your own storm,and you've passed over my barren land and are raging over the next.
- you're not coming back.
But then again,neither am i
