Just a little more empty
Every now and then I want to believe that when you turn away your eyes, it doesn't hurt. I want to believe that when you won't answer my questions, it doesn't worry me. I'm treading in deep waters now, and I don't know how long I can stay afloat. I don't know how deep they are, don't know how long it will take for me to drown in them.
I can't see the bottom in all of this, don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. This is all so new and so frightening, that despite familiarity, despite comfort, despite love and trust, I still find myself terrified of how easily I fell into this.
I still find myself terrified at the idea of how hard I could fall and completely I could break. Every now and then I want to believe that I could walk away tomorrow and not even remember the things that have passed between us. I want to let myself think that it wouldn't hurt, it wouldn't kill me inside to let go because you wanted me to.
Yet that moment where you turn your back and walk away, that moment where I watch you run back to the house while I turn on my lights, always cuts straight to my core and leaves me feeling just a little more empty.
I can't see the bottom in all of this, don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. This is all so new and so frightening, that despite familiarity, despite comfort, despite love and trust, I still find myself terrified of how easily I fell into this.
I still find myself terrified at the idea of how hard I could fall and completely I could break. Every now and then I want to believe that I could walk away tomorrow and not even remember the things that have passed between us. I want to let myself think that it wouldn't hurt, it wouldn't kill me inside to let go because you wanted me to.
Yet that moment where you turn your back and walk away, that moment where I watch you run back to the house while I turn on my lights, always cuts straight to my core and leaves me feeling just a little more empty.
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