I went to write you a letter,
The angry sorts,
Telling you to stay out of my life
and That I didn't want you here anymore.
But My pen touched the page,
And the ink splatters turned into love notes.
I'm describing my feelings for you
from empty bottles and tear stained pillows.
I'm wrapping what's left of my heart
in the dead skin you left behind to protect me with.
I'm writing to tell you it shriveled long before you walked out my door.
I guess I'm trying to say is, it failed.
I'm mailing this empty shell
of lost promises and broken dreams
to let you know that I'm tired of missing you.
That I am tired or waking up every morning feeling as empty as the other half of my bed.
You tell me I'm not miserable enough,
as if not feeling anything,
save when I'm with you
Isn't making me want to die.
And I really want to fix things.
I want to take the broken shards of our friendship
and glue them back together
so I finally feel safe with loving you as much as I have
I used to think we were a puzzle,
one that completed itself
as soon as we learned what peices the other had,
But I'm slowly realizing,
That some of our pieces have become deformed and don't fit like they used to.
We are two separate people now,
Something I wasn't aware could happen.
But it did.
I'm sorry.
I hoped a different pen would change these ink stains,
But I suppose it was never the ink telling you it loved you,
it was me.
And when I think about you
I just want to hug you,
and love you
and be with you
but I have a feeling that if that were to happen in real life,
You'd look at me like a scared deer who heard a twig snap.
Maybe it was just the idea of loving you
that made me fall,
or perhaps it was those wide blue eyes
and dorkish grin
that somehow get's my heart racing no matter how angry I am with you.
Either way,
I can't sit by and Not tell you anymore.
I love you in the most hearbreaking way,
I miss you in the most lonliest sense.
I want you in a fantasy that doesn't exist.
I'm telling you this,
not because I think you'll come back,
but because
I've finally accepted that you might not.
So if I get this back with 'return to sender'
I understand it was too painful to open,
I just ask you to understand that when I burn it,
It was too painful not to.
