Finality.
I slam into it like a brick wall.
I'm bruised, concussed and retching from pain.
Yeah, sure. I'll get up and brush myself off.
But right now I really don't want to.
My head hurts
and I'm going to bitch and complain about it.
Denial.
I hear the sound of its death rattle.
The blunt truth is that there is no going back.
We can't push for more comfy good times.
There isn't anything I can say or do.
But how the fuck
am I supposed to stop obsessing about it?
Frustration.
My fantasies were unfulfilled.
I was hoping we could go out with a bang.
We were ripe with that sexual tension.
I lusted for that primal, simultaneous closure.
Not a chance.
Anti-climactic goodbye. So defensive. Discordant.
Confusion.
What were our motives all along?
Stumbling across each other in mutual need.
Pull me close. Push away. Testing... testing...
We danced around the boundaries of body and emotion.
I'm insecure.
Was it co-dependent love with hidden resentment?
Martyrdom.
The trump card of us Piscean folk.
I sit in stoic silence as I'm screaming inside.
I refuse to whine about you in front of my friends.
I can't admit that my resolve isn't flawless.
I'm ashamed.
I am so ridiculously pathetic about all of this shit.
Speculation.
Not that I really want to know.
Of course we will meet up again someday soon.
I know that it will be just hapless coincidence.
Over and over I imagine how, where and when.
So awkward
when I see that life without me is just how you want it.
Cold-Turkey.
Always tempted to pull you closer.
Do you see now why I couldn't be friends?
I'm going absolutely fucking crazy
waiting for your determined knock at my door.
Withdrawal pains.
You are the hardest fucking addiction I've ever had to quit.
Originally written by Marion V. Darkstag **Note
May 28th, 2008
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