I look at you as if you’re already gone. A distant memory that still manages to hurt even though it’s over. I stood in the doorway and watched you sleep, it felt like a goodbye, although it’s just beginning. Loving like you’ve never been hurt seems so romantic, in theory. Truth is my heart is nothing but scar tissue, yet somehow it manages to pump blood throughout my body, but nothing else.
I could see myself loving you. I could see myself wanting you forever. I could see many tomorrows. Yet I stand at the door watching you sleep, whispering a tender goodbye.
