The you I had in my head was beautiful and pure. A raw diamond. Maybe I saw more in you than you see in yourself. Maybe I just never got it. Still not convinced that this rock is just an ugly killing machine. At least I don’t feel attached anymore. Even though I sometimes get sentimental, my heart doesn’t allow more than a few tears. I’d rather put you in a museum for exotic creatures, for the world to admire your seldom beauty than ever let you in again.