So then it happened, as it always does. As it always did. We felt the moments, and we felt the happiness. A clear gazing into each other's eyes, and the words I said on our first meeting “this will end badly…”. I was, it seems, right.

We said just one more night, we said “tomorrow it's over”. We never meant it. It wasn't until we stopped saying it that it was over.
Crazy, pure moments of ecstasy, of adoring you and your movements, the pure fucking love you had of my eyes and the pain in them. Clear blue, dark blue, we matched one another and the time was… well spent? Do I regret it? Short, long, all the pain I ever had, all the sorrow I ever got, is it good to feel after?

Walking in the sand, footsteps follow, clear crisp breeze and we stood together, and why didn't we end it there? Nine o' clock in the morning, following our desires, our unexplained feelings, our vague thoughts of what was good in this world, and why didn't we end it there?
Were we too greedy? Were we too fucking delusional to realize that it ended that night, that moment, when I finally asked the question of reality.
We weren't ready for reality. You let me into your reality and I let you into mine and I didn't like what I saw.

It's not that I love you. It's not that I care. Or… do I?
You were damaged.
I wanted to fix you. I wanted to make you feel your worth.
We're too different. We're too careless. We're too indifferent. We have too much selfhatred to ever work.
And so we are broken.
And I do feel bad when you're not around.

But it's over now. The pain is gone. You will be in pain forever. You threw your salvation away. Your pain is your own and you have no one else to blame. All your bridges burnt, all your heaven torn to pieces, all your words meaningless, empty. Your tears fall and no one catches them.
True blindness is not wanting to see.