Salt And Blood

Salt and blood. 

Even with the slightest amount of hope that you could still care, I was happy. If not happy, I was sane at least. I was functional. I was able to think of things other than you. Even with false faith in you, my life contentedly rested on the edge of light and dark.


I knew the truth long before you admitted it. I also knew that I didn't want to believe it. It's spectacular how far down one can entrench denial, to a point where it actually becomes a believable reality. Denial, in all its glory, shielded me from premature acceptance of what you eventually had to tell me for your own peace. Therefore, when you told me that you no longer had feelings for me, it set off the freshest of fires to the final shreds of composure I had left.


As if darkness and blood had washed over me, I found myself at a loss for words and void of all control over my life. Now it feels as though I'm spiralling into nothingness. 


I just wanted to know what it would feel like to be wanted by you. 


I fell for you. I got lost in you. As a result and as punishment, I am plagued by spontaneous tears and fresh scars. Now that I no longer have you. Now that you've happily moved on while I don't know what to do next.


Countless tissues have been discarded and numerous pillows have been cried upon during those sleepless nights. 


I'm just a ghost of a girl. Lost and confused. Broken and lonely. Depressed and stuck. Teary-eyed and newly scarred.   




--J.