The thing is, I've never cried about what happened at the end of us. I only cried during the trek of loneliness I was granted with.
But I spoke of you today. And I burst into tears. I never realized how you were my galaxy. I never realized how I used to grasp onto you like you were the only thing keeping me breathing, and I couldn't even keep you awake.
I screamed about how bad it hurt to let you go. Because even in the end, when I was utterly done with it all, I still wished with my entire being that you'd give me back the love I gifted you with.
But you couldn't even give me a proper good bye.
YOU ARE READING
The Swallows and the Sunsets
PoetryI tend to find meanings in things not intended to have one.
