I thought if I had bared my soul and my thoughts to you
If I had written to you about you and referenced to you in the things I had done,
Then you would have understood
You would have felt it too,
this vulnerable state I am in, constantly.
I thought if you had read how I felt, black on white, then you would have known. If I had written it as clearly as I could, you would get it the way I did. You would respond. You’d say something.
I keep shooting in the dark, I never see it hit anywhere. I speak and my words end up either lost somewhere between us or right back where I’ve left them, in front of you to inspect. All you’ve ever done is glare at them. What good is it to admire them from afar but never really get to touch them, or feel the edges of every letter between your hands.
Afraid it will hurt your fingers? It might.
Don’t worry actually it should.
Here I thought a future with our words intertwined and our lips locked wouldn’tve been too inconceivable.
You were never mine, I give you credit for much more than what you are.
I give you credit for so much more than what you want to be.
You never wanted to take any part of my future.
I’m sorry I hung on to you when all you’ve wanted to do was let go.
I’m sorry I put so much importance on something that should’ve gone by as quickly as it came.
I’m sorry I put emphasis on a comma, but I thought it weighed much more than one breath in a pause.
We should learn not to put stress on one part of a sentence when it is clearly not finished yet. It ruins its whole aesthetic.
We should learn never to put emphasis on a comma when we can clearly see its full stop right there after its last word, but I was so used to writing my own that I hadn’t realized you were holding the pen.
Sadly this time you thought it was better not to write at all.