love ends.
You take.
You stand there, and ask for forgiveness and ask me to give you a semblance of hope, a way to see the future in a different way. You say that it would mean nothing without me, that without me to cling to, it isn't worth sticking around to see the end. You say this with no hint of remorse, and no tone of regret. You say it because you've rehearsed it a thousand times, and told it to me about the same amount.
And I give.
I talk of the beginning. I talk of how it all started, how it all seemed to grow bigger by the minute, and how by the end our first week, it seemed as if there was nothing left to find out about you. I talk of this and I remember, and my heart keeps telling me to remember that, to give that moment a chance once again. I talk of this and I remember, and my mind stops me in the tracks. It forces me to look beyond that first time, that first week, and that first everything. It shows me everything after: the lies, the deceit, the quietness and the ineptitude of hope.
You take it all.
There is no hope left. There's nothing left for me to cling to and absolutely everything that we were has been broken apart by you and your words and everything that you have brought to this so-called relationship has been forged in lies and secrets and regrets of things not yet accomplished. I held the ground. I gave myself hope and when that was no longer enough, I took it away and I gave you my hope, about the only thing I had left you hadn't managed to corrupt. And you took it, without remorse. You fed off it, and stayed by my side, all the time telling me you loved me.
And I give it all.
Maybe you did love me. For that first week or first month, maybe you did. Something changed after that. I don't know if it was the profound change that was taking place, or the influence of having someone in your life that wanted you just as you were, but it changed, and it stopped, and what should have perhaps ended there was given free reign by me, always with the belief that you would change and that it would all improve for the better one day. I taught myself to believe that better days were ahead when all the proof to the contrary surrounded me. I learned to laugh at jokes that were no longer funny, I learned to keep quiet when things that had no bearing came up in conversation, and I did it all for you.
No more.
When all of this is over, when it is finally over, when there are no remnants left, no desire in my heart left over for you, when I can finally say that I am free, I don't know what will become of me. I will lay in bed and think of you, of all the times spent in that bed and in this old house, and I will feel blessed that it is all over. You managed to irreparably damage me, and created in me a shell of what I was and what I used to be. What you leave behind isn't what you find, but that will change. Maybe not today, maybe not in a week, but the capacity for change is there, locked away where you couldn't reach it.
You lose. Me, and everything.
You stand there, and ask for forgiveness and ask me to give you a semblance of hope, a way to see the future in a different way. You say that it would mean nothing without me, that without me to cling to, it isn't worth sticking around to see the end. You say this with no hint of remorse, and no tone of regret. You say it because you've rehearsed it a thousand times, and told it to me about the same amount.
And I give.
I talk of the beginning. I talk of how it all started, how it all seemed to grow bigger by the minute, and how by the end our first week, it seemed as if there was nothing left to find out about you. I talk of this and I remember, and my heart keeps telling me to remember that, to give that moment a chance once again. I talk of this and I remember, and my mind stops me in the tracks. It forces me to look beyond that first time, that first week, and that first everything. It shows me everything after: the lies, the deceit, the quietness and the ineptitude of hope.
You take it all.
There is no hope left. There's nothing left for me to cling to and absolutely everything that we were has been broken apart by you and your words and everything that you have brought to this so-called relationship has been forged in lies and secrets and regrets of things not yet accomplished. I held the ground. I gave myself hope and when that was no longer enough, I took it away and I gave you my hope, about the only thing I had left you hadn't managed to corrupt. And you took it, without remorse. You fed off it, and stayed by my side, all the time telling me you loved me.
And I give it all.
Maybe you did love me. For that first week or first month, maybe you did. Something changed after that. I don't know if it was the profound change that was taking place, or the influence of having someone in your life that wanted you just as you were, but it changed, and it stopped, and what should have perhaps ended there was given free reign by me, always with the belief that you would change and that it would all improve for the better one day. I taught myself to believe that better days were ahead when all the proof to the contrary surrounded me. I learned to laugh at jokes that were no longer funny, I learned to keep quiet when things that had no bearing came up in conversation, and I did it all for you.
No more.
When all of this is over, when it is finally over, when there are no remnants left, no desire in my heart left over for you, when I can finally say that I am free, I don't know what will become of me. I will lay in bed and think of you, of all the times spent in that bed and in this old house, and I will feel blessed that it is all over. You managed to irreparably damage me, and created in me a shell of what I was and what I used to be. What you leave behind isn't what you find, but that will change. Maybe not today, maybe not in a week, but the capacity for change is there, locked away where you couldn't reach it.
You lose. Me, and everything.