It doesn’t matter what you did, she’d already made up her mind. She’d already gotten rid of you, doesn’t matter what you tried. If she was tired of you then, now she’d be tired even more. Your heart was what held you together, now you’re all spilled on the floor.
You’re a lover, not a fighter, you’re an author, not a writer, and you’re pretty sure you’re gonna blow up. You adore her but can’t have her: she’s before and you are after, and now you wish you had never shown up.
Shadows look like puddles, puddles shine like mirrors. Mirrors break like bubbles, but tears are always tears. Somebody fetch a bucket, somebody’s on their knees. Someone pour you in the gutter, let you dissolve into the sea. Wrapped up in the water, stripped of all control, till finally you will have forgot her and you once again are whole.
You’re a lover, not a fighter, you’re an author, not a writer, but you were pretty sure you were gonna blow up. You adore her but can’t have her: she’s before and you are after, and now you wish you had never shown up.