Heart Tears

1

It's difficult. Almost like tearing my skin of a wound. But I have to do this. It's like I'm the only one who wants this. I am the only one who wants this. And he's indifferent and insensitive. I want to stop that addiction I feel to him everyday. But I can't. And then I realize he can. That he can easily peel me off like clothing. I hate it when my pain or love is one sided. So I think I'd block it out totally. Tonight, I'll cry every tear of pain and love that I could possibly feel for him, I'm tired of both. My pillow will have hands tonight and hold me down through the rough seas. I need it especially, to hold me down when that tingle of hope decides to linger that there could be more and he'd want it although I know, he's so ready to peel me off and move on. It's my fault he's become a second skin, I bit into that apple. I had no idea it was a worse than cocaine; a high that could be elevating and yet be depressing, that could make you sleep snuggly and manage to keep you awake wondering.
I wouldn't call it altogether love, I however managed to get addicted to him and everything that came by. I craved his scent, I craved his touch, I craved his taste, his voice, his very presence, I could not stand his absence.
We both wouldn't call it love. We both know it isn't love. Maybe an infatuation most likely. And he knows best, how to close me for the time being and move on. I can't close him at all. It's like trying to stop my heartbeat for just one second: I know I'm trying my but it's decided to remain impossible.
However what remains, remains. My drowning in tears has already begun and though my pillow has hands, it has no voice to soothe my pain. So thus shall I remain, cold and lonelier than I already am. Maybe tonight sweet dreams shall visit me and I shall know in the morning if my heart is ready to peel it's skin and I'm really engaging in a fruitless endeavor that would make me fall deeper.

#TearDrop#