In This Faulty Mind of Mine
We have this bittersweet thing called 'love', or maybe not, but I believed so. I have overlooked the rough gazes and dirty statements as I turn the pages and settle it with words like 'small arguments'.
I never felt neglected, thrown away, or straight-up felt like I was dead (horrible), or maybe that was just the first waves of my emotions. so, I once again turned my head to what was real and started to write a love story full of surreality.
It was damn easy to (not) doubt you every time I was away. While I was nearly hugging thin air, wishing for your embrace. on the other hand you were wishing for something I couldn't give you always—pleasure. I doubted the fact that she was taking off her clothes in the bed you kept me warm while I—I stared as I saw you painting kisses on a canvas that was more expensive than I was. I knew, 'twas as if I was never your rose or maybe I was never even yours. Maybe to sate that it was just a long hello and a quick goodbye.
I just knew. I knew I could've done better. I knew I could've pushed further.
I knew more than those, but I chose to dine in my painful thoughts to what I felt was the right thing to do.
What if—I confronted you just a bit earlier? I could've saved the story of us that I wrote.
What if—I straight up let you see that I bled the night you said I was horrible? I could've subtracted the tears that was now a river that continues to flow.
What if I doubted you just a bit deeper? I could've immediately opened my eyes to what was real and could've rewritten the story to avoid technical mistakes of lies and prejudice.
However today, I was now wide awake through the nights I should be sleeping. I was now anxious of dirty statements and rough gazes when I should left them overlooked. I never needed black coffee every evening if I could just start overthinking what I could've done and what should have happened.
Yes, you happened. You happened, to love my bitter, break my sugar, and leave me with what ifs and what could've been.
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