Things are hard and easy, and many times we make them harder by choosing the obviously easy way.
Being empty, expressing nullity through words, saying it all so it means nothing, pleasing foreign eyes with smiles that remain, constant and lifeless, like you did me and made me do it. It happens. As we were becoming strangers with every extra look we’d share, I stopped looking. You presented no regrets for our flee from each other, I don’t blame you, I understand you.
Ignoring growing feelings, that’s easy when you’re the other, the loved one, yet you’ll find yourself gone once you look back at us. Then it’ll be hard to grasp those lost feelings I kept for you, in me, hidden from glutton foreign hands. Believe me, you’ll miss them, and as much as I hope you do not, you inevitably will. I did not tremble nor looked around, I was yours, but you left. You were never here.
So there was this moment when it was yours to take, the love, mine to hand over, open-hearted and overmindedly. What I’ve shown and shone upon you, it was for you to grab, effortlessly. I would never tire you with love, never did, though you may think I’m lying. You know I said what I had to say, I’d be killing myself if I was to avoid it, but there’s so much more you could hear from me, and from yourself as you would begin to really know me, if you wanted.
You’d be surprised with how things could have worked out if it hadn’t been like this. You want to know just as much as I do, and that I know for sure, though you pretend you do not care. In the end, you still think of me, rarely but sometimes.
I’m happy now, and you, why wouldn’t you? You’re fine, made of an essence I’ve worked to build in you, one day, and that is something you can’t deny or forget. And when, and if, some other day comes when we’ll look at one another after all this time, I only expect you to smile at me as I won’t cry, for I’m happy now having you not with me but in me.
For I’m so thankful for what happened and most of all, happy to see you again.