There has been no great divide here. There have been no swords that have sliced through flesh, nobody has touched anything. We have not touched each other, we have not exchanged blows and yet, we sit on the floor in pieces, self combusted. There is something about a love that is never completely realized, the kind that never actually ends because it was never actually started to begin with.
We are addicted to it, forever chasing the high from first touch never to come across it ever again. We know this, know that our souls will fail us as we try to put together puzzle pieces that have been warped by salt water and the inability to say “I’ve changed” and stick with it. We know this when we write letters to each other full of remorse, full of lifetime promises and things that we want to mean but could not possibly put forth to fruition. We are knocking on doors and slamming into walls and exhausted bodies that have had enough and yet enough does not seem to be enough this time so we try one more time.
Bit by bit I must admit that there has become almost nothing left of the person that I was when this started, for better or for worse. My own eyes do not recognize me anymore, my mind has picked apart my image it feels strange in it’s existence, like a word said too many times that gets you all tongue twisted. I said last time was the last time and yet there was a this time and there will be a next time. And I find myself wondering through all of this was there ever really a first time? Where everything was easy and we just existed within one another. I remember there were times where I thought that the world revolved around you.
But revolving around you meant I could not even see myself, could not see anything around me. The world became an unfamiliar blur, a place that knocked me to the ground when I stopped spinning.
Can we say that things should have been better? We know we are broken and we know we will not put each other back together again. We know that there have been moments of the greatest pain here, the greatest being the final loss, the greatest being the absence of all the things that are built on sand at high tide, things that took all you had and just vanished.
And I am so sorry even though sorry means nothing and it’s this little word we use to convey something and absolutely nothing at all. Because in the end though we know there has been no great divide I swear I felt the earth move when we hung up the phone for the last time.