There's only one thing I've ever wanted from this, because I'm always wanting. From laying down flat on my stomach on a bed with no sheets, and the sun burning my back. It feels a lot like the hopelessness I can't escape from, not really knowing anything at all, but wanting to.
Because it's safer to say that I've become lonely without it. What am I to do when even that hopelessness has left me behind? Will I have finally struck my purpose in dreams lost to constellations I left trapped within them?
The questions protrude endlessly within me, begs the answers as if I don't already have them. Eventually, everything fades away and all that's left is the reward. But it almost seems emptier than the bottle of vodka we once chased, together. Alone and angry at you for hurting me. I wouldn't have to be alone if you hadn't. I wouldn't have wondered. The truth would be a bottomless void like his kiss, and I would be smiling better in recent photographs.
He stole it from me, and you let him. I almost don't blame you until I remember who you once were to me. We trusted each other. We met them and we loved them. They loved us too, but now you say they never did and I trust you still...
You can't admit it to yourself, but the day once came and it was dark, a room in a house that was never a safe place. But at least we were happy for a while. You said I was beautiful, and it never mattered that he liked me naked. You did. You did.
You never told me I couldn't trust him, and still I trust you. They wanted me and you said they didn't. But I still trust you. I am yours, forever and ever, and whatever comes after that.
