my perfect boy was slipping away, water through my fingers, untouchable rain.
he didn’t want me.
it was hard to comprehend at first.
not in a vain way, i was in no way perfect or beautiful or desirable, but he made me believe that he’d be mine forever, as i was his.
now i couldn’t figure out if he fed me lies over the months, me drinking them up as if they’d save me from myself, or if he really had felt it all but simply lost it, able to change his feelings as if they were controlled with a switch.
heaven hell heaven hell heaven hell.
the switch in my brain flicked repetitively.
she was wonderful, glorious. but i was real.
she was nothing but an illusion. she could make you believe what ever she needed, she was good, but then you’d learn that it was a trick and things would crash down and i’d still be real. just as always.
waiting for you to come back to me, as always.
