Another Ugly Truth.

I sit on the floor and beg you to say what you mean. I should have put actual clothes on, I think, because leaving in oversized sweatpants and a t-shirt is not exactly the way I envisioned my leaving. Not that I ever really pictured my leaving. In all the flashes and images and burning tales of the future the predominant theme is staying. I used to see you walk away, in my nightmares, and my skin would burn as hot as the tears on my face. But no, now I sit and have the choice.
“What do you mean?” You are so scared, I am too.
“Two weeks ago you said you were fine and even your stupid eyes lied.” I don’t know why I called your eyes stupid. I’m quickly turning bitter, your eyes, they actually take my entirety away from me. The first time our eyes met I knew I was forever indebted to their existence. “And you couldn’t even tell me then that I was wrong for you.”
“You’re not wrong for me.” You say and I expect you to leave it at that, all my resolve leaves me, maybe you are going to be the one walking today. You pause and look at me, your stupid, beautiful, heartbreaking eyes connect with mine. “We’re wrong for each other.”
Lame excuses, broken memories, whatever you want to call it, you are wrong and I am wrong and I hate that we admitted it. So I stand up and make my not-so-grand exit. Once and for all this time.


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