I watch you as we lay beside each other, the wind is heavy and it makes my windows creek, just as my heart when you say my name.
It's beatifully tragic how this has never been untroubled but has never been so dreadful.
You take my chin in the palm of your hand and pull me close to you leaving me breathless.
I want to scream because your skin on mine no longer feels sacred.
I don't miss you when you're gone anymore, I don't long for your touch, I don't wish for you to pull me closer, and I don't desire to belong with you as I used to.
It's so deranged how so much pain and covet for one could fleet so rapidly.
I don't call what we possess love.
No, love should not feel like a war, no, love should not press so hard that my chest aches, no, love should not be painful.
The purest appreciation can turn so unwholesome.
You showed me how storms can brew and make more than just a subtle contrast, but they can rip into your flesh and pluck every vein filled with prospect and light until your dripping bitter lips on dried skin.
You were the reason I attempted to pile empty on top of empty, believing it could make me feel full but I turned blue and gray like the sky that day.
You were the reason I sunk into my bed in the silence on a summer night because there was no feeling inside my soul.
You were the reason I told myself if I wasn't enough for you then I wasn't enough for anyone.
You
You
You
You, you were the storm.
