It gets better
After you pass the first big dates without him.
The feelings rush through your nerves,
Viewing flashbacks of all the happy moments
And even the mental breakdowns you had.
Reminding you why it worked for a while,
And why you both had to leave.
You’ve passed the heavenly end of summer,
You’ve passed the day you approached him again,
You’ll pass the anniversary,
You’ll pass his birthday,
You’ll pass that intense Christmas.
You’ll pass the re-writes of all New years.
You’ll pass it all without him, and it’s okay.
One stage of getting over someone you loved is when you start convincing yourself how it wasn’t love and that it was just an illusion.
That stage of denial and the shoving away of memories into boxes and hiding them under a pile of mess.
Whether it’s a right or wrong method, it helps sometimes, and it’s helping at the moment.
To the biggest sin of my life,
I have betrayed the promise you begged me to make.
But finally, I don’t feel like fighting my feelings anymore.
And I’m tired of giving him up to someone else.
So, before I place your book on the upper shelf,
I’ll say one more last goodbye,
And thank you for the pain and love I’ve received
Did I request a refund?
Did you send the package at your own discretion?
Did I come by knocking on your doors, asking you to give it back?
I cannot recall how it happened
But when I stripped down to my bones,
I found a muscle beneath my ribs,
In its rightful place.
Don’t ask me how I feel about you,
Because the answer is the same.
I honestly don’t know.
I know that the way I view your personality
Has changed over the years,
Which makes it confusing for me to figure out my feelings.
I don’t think I’ll ever love myself wholeheartedly,
Because if I did, I would have accepted your love.
I never think I deserve that kind of admiration.
Maybe that’s why I can only chase behind those
Who can love me less than I do.
Don’t ask me if there’s any hope,
Because the answer is still the same.
I hope you’ll find someone better
Who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.
I feel like,
I can never allow myself to be with you
Because I think too highly of you.
And I think too little of myself.
When you kiss me,
The sensation hits a chord of confusion.
Shyness takes a hold of me,
Stopping me from looking at your eyes directly,
Afraid of confronting the lack of
Or the existence of intense feelings towards you,
Which forces me to find shelter in the uncertainty
That I’ve wrapped myself with in the past years.
Take me for a night drive.
We’ll take turns with the playlist.
We’ll listen in silence.
I’ll light us up a cigarette.
And we can drown in our own pollution
Of thoughts and smoke.