Our love was such a farce, it had the power to entertain jesters. They would laugh for hours at the ridiculous charade that we displayed for far too long. All the romance gone, like a nightingale murdered mid song. How foolish of us to pretend that we could have ever been anything more than fair weather friends. I was so desperate to be loved that I attached myself to your dark soul, assuming erstwhile that you would somehow make me whole. You keep repeating that I need you, refusing to see that I have grown into my own; I am now a man that has no qualms about walking a mile alone. My love could never feed your unquenchable thirst. After I have left, the replacements you find for me will become increasingly worse. As history has shown us, I will always be at the top of your list. I showered you with endless love, yet you still claim to have never been kissed. Much to your contrition, this demolition was all of your accursed volition. My only sin was self love, you would have rather that I neglect thy self. You shredded my heart with your malice, as you twisted the truth and called it help. I refuse to be a prisoner in this lonely Alcatraz, although I will continue to contribute to your poignant jazz. I am much wiser now, I will not get involved with you again. I will rise above your petty pubescence and continue my ascent.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
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