Cemented is what it feels like. Thoughts are stuck in the past. Battered from long ago pointless affairs. But this one.

Damn.

This one.

I never quite understood what we had. But it was something. No, not off a fairytale book. More than just an affair and I was prepared on spending the rest of my foolish life with him. He was somethin’.

My mind can distinguish what I must do but my heart cannot understand. Naive me.

This Thick-headed life never misses out pointing each and every diminutive detail that will cause me to think about him.

“Try”, they whispered.

How can I. I “tried” and yet I hear myself comparing. He had something he didn’t.

See. I tried.

Dungeon is what it looks like. A chain of anguish wrapped around your body, slowly closing in until it crushes your bones and leaves you in the dark and cold ground.

Irrelevant. But it sounded damn good. Haha

I find...

Declare the true reason why you initiated a conversation with me.

8:30pm.

A deserted night that quickly changed. I was awakened. Bewildered.
Is my absence in his life forcing him to hear my voice? Or a craving to whisper in my ear that his days are no longer lonely.

Egotist or bona fide? - unsure what exactly -

I’m irked. Irked Irked Irked.

How pleasant your days consists of having someone new to hum your deepest darkest secrets to.

How ecstatic you spend the after hours ogling each other.

I’m battered. Bruised.

I beg of you not to extortionate my mind. My head full of thoughts of us. Cheerful thoughts of our days. I beg of you not to corrupt these thoughts.

Exposed.

Bitter.

If you’re reading this, maybe this might help.

2 minutes…

2 minutes of thinking and I was knotted. Instantaneous. Bait of his undying adoration or so it seemed. I was back to the month where I was wrapped around his finger like a single thread being pulled and twisted but nevermore letting go. His hands, lips that somehow took you over to the hills of switzerland, his face partly covered from the beard that grows rapidly in just 3 days - i’ve always loved that -. How can a person perceive all these things and why must it be so difficult for that single thread to ultimately tear.

We are long gone from each other’s conflicting lives. It was not a choice. Not that it became mine. It was inevitable.

I know I am a remainder of his past year’s memory. Maybe it has a definition but it’s still so unclear to me till now. Morning’s are tough when you are demanded to neglect those memories. Memories recurring when you are forced to think...