(through dust)

My brain is a bloodstain on the back of her dress. faded remains from a dubious past. a mark that left no scar.

And in the morning i wish i was gone. run away from the life i was living. from the friends. from the family. from the memories - now a question of inference and fucking interpretation that i, blithely, had assumed would shine (if not necessarily golden) bright in my mind for a long long time (i've learned that forever is a false pretense that only ever leads to unspeakable pain).

But i haven't, of course.

I'm right fucking here. my throat hurts. my head hurts. my heart hurts worse than i thought it could (or would with a partner in crime that i imagined would irrevocably complete my life).

I'm alone today.

I'm lonely already.

And days without here next to me seem bleak and weary, hollow as my twisted gut. the nights ahead seem trite and lost.

I don't know what happened. i don't know where love went awry. all i do know is that the songs don't sound the same now. the triumph is gone from the moment i opened my eyes imagining, somehow, that everything would be better. that she would have changed her mind.

Maybe she will. maybe we'll ride of into autumn years together as i'd planned.

But i'm afraid to think like that.

I'm afraid to face this day.