It’s been a long time coming, this conversation is long overdue. I’ll try to make this quick, but how can I, when there is so much to say?
I can’t help but think it was all a lie. How could true love end like this? How can you love again, when I’m still lying in pieces, dreaming of when our hearts were stars, and the sky were the pages of our book. I can’t help but remember when we were free to roam and wander side by side, I was yours and you were mine. I do not understand your love for another, for as always, and forever, this heart beats for only you. Am I destined to lose all that holds me dear, will they all leave as quickly as you did?
I’ve been shattered as of late, broken and destroyed, left in desolate ruin, without a joy or gift in sight. Before you, I was a clean canvas, an my skin an unfinished painting, art waiting to be inspired. Then came you in a whirlwind of colors, splattering across me, staining and tattooing me with art and pigments unmarveled. How naive I was then, when I reveled in your mark, I was proud to be married by you, the world could see ; You cared about me. How the haphazard tones spoke to me then, but whatever meaning I thought I saw in the abstract now I render as the strokes of an everyday pen. Nothing special, nothing romantic, just the humiliating scribbles of a long gone lover. Scars and tattoos, they all tell a story of you. They record the legend of my ruination, where you’re the hero, and the villain, and the lover. You were always the driving factor, the inspiration, you could never be a supporting character.
If my life is a book, you felt like the climax, all things lead up to you. You; the arch, the apex, the second to last stanza. Oh, indeed it is tale of epic proportions, the tale of how I fell head first into perfect love with you. It is poetry, but there’s no rhyme or reason to this testimony, it’s like a breathtaking symphony put to actions, thoughts, and words. I’ve never been a fan of the abstract, at least never before this, where we are nothing but ideas and hypotheticals, it’s speculations that make us, that build us, form us. The colors splashed onto ARE indescribable, they haven’t been named yet. They exist outside the rainbow prism, they are spectacular hues that cannot be placed, they, like us, are not tangible, but simply an idea.
Of course we had to end, to explode, implode, because no good story is a happy one, heartbreak is unavoidable. We both survived to this final verse, but as expected, I am not happy. You are happy, you ended in peace, but I’m still sitting cracked and broken, just a faded photograph. I’m stuck in a moment of pain in time, forever wondering what it would be like to be free of this.
I’m destined for catastrophe, I’m fated for destruction, I’m doomed to walk a path without you. You’re my great adventure, my goal, my prize, my desire. I thought our love was written in the stars, etched into destiny, carved into stone, but I see now whatever future we had was but a mirage. What I thought was our backstory turned out to be the grand finale, the rest of my story isn’t to be recorded.
No one will weave tapestries of the late life of the girl with fire for bones, no one will sing choruses for me, as they rang bells and blew trumpets for us, the love to end all loves.
I will miss what conspired between us. I’ll miss the flame in my heart and the storm in my soul. I’ll miss being whole, being set ablaze, I’ll miss writing new pages every night. I’ll miss the candlelit encounters, the drama and euphoria of being lovers with you. I’ll miss earth shaking sex and mind blowing conversation, I’ll miss your taste on my lips, your touch on my back, your breath on my body. I’ll miss that which you brought to me, I’ll miss that which you made me- that which I became when you left and broke me- A legend.