no, running away isnt the best plan, but it gets me further from you.
time is said to heal all wounds —
the time that’s passed since we unraveled has done nothing but smeared my searing pain.
smeared — what a word.
not ‘dulled’ nor ‘blurred’ nor ‘muddled’ — instead, hastily rearranged without rhyme or reason. to ‘dull’ or to ‘blur’ would be to lessen.
to ‘smear,’ however, forces all the fragmented pieces to remain present albeit now bloodlessly deformed.
we are smeared. our time together is unrecognizable,
though i can still see it all.
i can feel every night / every song / every laugh / every tear all at once — smeared together.
smeared into the giant hole in my chest that still to this day howls when the wind blows.
empty, but so full. just like the both of us.
and if i could say any of this and believe myself for even one second, id tell you i was leaving and i was never looking back.
id tell you that youve hurt me for the last time, and that i deserve the fucking world.
id remind you that im a catch and youre a cheater.
id exhale the pain and anxiety with which you impregnated me, and id move on with my life.
but i see galaxies smeared in your eyes, and i could follow them forever.