I told you from the beginning that you will leave me. I told you it would reach the point where you won’t be able to handle my brokeness and eventually you’ll let go.
But you said this time, it’ll be different, that you’ll stay no matter what and I would be the one who leaves you.
In the end, just like I predicted from the very beginning, you let go/you left.
A part of me thought you’d just be there/you’d stay.

Everybody leaves.

Welcome back old voiceless/sheepish friend.
I never thought I would have to summon you again.
But the time has come to make a new scar to remember this moment by, which should serve as a perrenial reminder
to my future self that the past is always real and this time around,
to learn from it.

Part I - She and Her and The Shadow of She/Her.

Her soul, blanketed with strings of bittersweet memories of love,
picks daisies and puts it into the pouch on her left sleeve.
The daisies wilt.
At the scent of her self pity.
She is in touch with the moon and connects every constellation with the tip of her index finger and feels she doesn’t belong to the place where she is right now.
She feels unenlightened yet aesthetic.

She has an inconspicuous connection with anything and everything that isn’t
loved/understood by everyone.
Or maybe she feels they all have
one thing in common.
They’re all,
Unlovable.

Part II - (Illusion of/False) Hope

The feeling is curable.
Maybe someone needs to reveal from the horizon during the
green flash before the
be dazzling sunset
someone who ‘just’ needs to make her feel special, not even ubiquitously. Someone who would reach out their hand when she’s drowning in negativity.
Maybe she’s better off alone.

All she’s ever done is live vicariously/bottled up her feelings and self loath her precious self.
People stomping on her broken heart held together with double stitches and incisions, walking all over her, using her, breaking her trust, treated like she has no feelings whatsoever.
People replacing her.
Her dreams thrown out the window, shattering the glass and her dreams. The shards stained with the blood of her unfulfilled dreams is a constant reminder that no one is going to support her.

People leaving her, with deep seated scars and etching memories in the depths of her heart. These people are not mere strangers crossing paths on the boardwalk, they are the people who mean/meant the whole universe to her.
There is no shoulder for her to cry/lean on and rest her weary head.
No arms to encompass her feeble frame.
No hand which will fill the gap in between, her fingers.
Desperate calls rattling back as desperate echoes.
She has everything and nothing.
She has everyone and no one.
She’s alone. She’s used to it.

But every once in a while,
she wishes
she had someone who would
make her feel loved and
she’s worth it.
special.

I feel nothing but empty,
On bended knees I plead" Flood me,
Everything you drained from being.“

Sometimes the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you.

She/He notices you,
because you no longer obsess about her/him.

Maybe when you stop writing about her/him,
When every dead letter is no longer addressed to her/him.
When you stop hoping that she/he is the recipient of your bottled up feelings as a message in a bottle.

Or maybe,
You will not.
A part of them will always linger, she/he will be braided with your emphatic soul.
She/he will be the ember that slowly fades with the darkness, but still remains as remnant ashes.
Maybe you just learn to unlove her/him.
But deep down you know,
you will always love her/him.
She/he is,
Sempiternal.