I had been feeling it for days…

I think I knew, secretly yes, I think I just kept wanting to believe that it was indeed mutual and a mirror of my affection, but I felt withdrawal. I gave the space they begged silently for and stood-by and watched the vacancy of their presence and their words and waning lack of observation, perhaps deliberate - perhaps not, but the frequency of ignoring things previously never missed was staring at me from the shadows in the dark. I swallowed explanations and excuses like chasers, I was choking.

I hate that my heart has the strength and power to silence my mind from truth. Why is my heart so selfish, so stubbornly fragile and always choosing to love people that don’t love back. 

At my core I am just a silly neurotic passionate romantic little girl still learning life lessons again and again and again. It’s draining, my chest gets heavy, I can’t breathe and the corners of my eyes  pool with tears. I wanted to believe otherwise but the ‘but’ reveals truths. The head knows, that the heart and soul will feel too deeply. 

At the heart of grief there lies a melancholic danger, I prefer the danger of hope, it’s kiss; and a far sweeter bed of death.