Untitled

I don't see the point in pouring my heart out, sooner lay cement on a bed of sodden sand, more stable a foundation would it create than anything we've ever made. Id rather lay for days in the dark, with greater a chance that the impossible might occur and beneath me would dry.

I'd put my money on me dying than you ever not denying what you did. Float from my body but still I bare witness and cannot forgive the trespasses, penetrating my soul, to drag it up with callous claws, opening holes half buried, suck me into the underbelly and spit me out at the end.

I cannot pretend to be your friend. I have never been or will. You was my everything, the sun and sky and moons and seas, and it's done, to nothingness, black holes and past memories. I'll have to start again.