The haze from the weather burns 'em all togetherGot kicked out of yet another restaurant. Maybe that's why I like fast food. It's...fast. There isn't time for emotions to change. There isn't time for rage to wash over hope, turning tables, flipping them even, leaving your lunch date to walk down the sidewalk quickly, alone, having to call her husband out of a meeting ten blocks away because she needed a ride home.
And I'm losing track of time
Trying to find my own way
What if forever is better than never?
And baby, it's a sign
That we found our own way
I will not let my heart ache
The I-told-you-sos are loud today as I was warned multiple times that the Devil is a powder keg of a man, that his peacefulness is a ruse, that he's dangerous and I shouldn't run off for fancy lunches and shopping and time with someone like that.
But I believed in him because I had hope too.
My rage doesn't manifest itself in huge physical displays like his though. I just go quiet. I just cut you out of my life without a word. It shouldn't be called ghosting, however. More like reverse-ghosting.
But I believed in him because I had hope too.
My rage doesn't manifest itself in huge physical displays like his though. I just go quiet. I just cut you out of my life without a word. It shouldn't be called ghosting, however. More like reverse-ghosting.
More like long overdue. I know my brain's going to cave in at the thought of not having him anymore but at the same time it's for the best.
Or so they say.
Because this can't continue like this. I want to move on. I don't want the rollercoaster of building the trust up and up and up only to have the terrifying plummet back to doubt.
He's going to come crawling back and I want to stand on his fingers, crushing them under my boots so that he can't get purchase on me, destroying his hands so he can't touch me anymore, can't defend himself as I move on to his handsome face, can't save himself when I rip apart his brain or whatever it is that's inside him that made him spend his entire life trying to destroy mine. All in the name of love.
This isn't love, Caleb. How dare you keep trying to call it that, as if you can make it into something beautiful? It never will be and neither will you or I, for that matter. You made sure of that a long time ago.
Or so they say.
Because this can't continue like this. I want to move on. I don't want the rollercoaster of building the trust up and up and up only to have the terrifying plummet back to doubt.
He's going to come crawling back and I want to stand on his fingers, crushing them under my boots so that he can't get purchase on me, destroying his hands so he can't touch me anymore, can't defend himself as I move on to his handsome face, can't save himself when I rip apart his brain or whatever it is that's inside him that made him spend his entire life trying to destroy mine. All in the name of love.
This isn't love, Caleb. How dare you keep trying to call it that, as if you can make it into something beautiful? It never will be and neither will you or I, for that matter. You made sure of that a long time ago.