I could count on my hand the time I felt your apology.
And I can only count once, when you didn’t minimize and invalidate me.
You treat the cheating as a done affair.
It happened to me many times. Many nights.
You never begged for my forgiveness. Maybe I don’t deserve a begging, but maybe it could have served me to see you remorseful.
Now, you come into my life.
You tell me first that you love me.
In the next heartbeat you tell me you’re confused between me and a girl.
Am I some kind of zombie?
Why do you make me into a ghost?
I don’t want to be, someone for the future.
Here I am. Alive and breathing.
You’ve trapped me once again.
You tell me I abandoned you.
I’ll tell you I broke up with you because you cheated.
Isn’t that the heart of the matter?
I remember, I became non-verbal too.
The weight of life took its toll on me.
You let it be. You let it be. You never once confronted me. I shut down for all the times you brushed me off.
I remember, I became impatient. Irritable.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry is all I can say.
Life took its toll on me.
You took a knife, on a regular evening. On a rooftop in the city. And told me you got a crush on somebody. It stung, but I remained strong.
You took the knife again, told me it bothered you.
And over and over over again, you knifed me every-time you chose time to spend with them.
I lingered. Like a ghost. You count those times as care, your way of caring, when it was me that showed up time and again just to hear some explanation.
You treat the cheating as a done affair.
I wish you’d just try to see, what goes on in the mind of those that got cheated on. And if you don’t accept it still, then at least the minds of those that felt they got cheated on.
You accuse me of not letting you go. As if a year and a half is enough time to cover for 8. A little infinity.
Is it my fault I love so deeply?
I don’t resent you looking to have other experiences. I don’t resent you looking to others to ease you. To lift your heavy burdens.
You keep your faith that it’s hard to connect with somebody, that it’s a young minds’ mistake.
The news is that, that’s how you make friends.
But you romanticize, you over analyze.
And perhaps it is love. Perhaps you’re meant to be.
But you’re never sure are you?
And you can’t help but keep the one thing that’s been sure on her own in your life.
You have her by the heart.
She’ll weep again, until the day it runs dry once again.
Because you’ll never be sure she’s the one you want in your current life.
You treat me as a ghost of the future again.
And so I’ll weep until I hit my limit again.
