collapsing ruins

we are so obsessed with romanticizing loneliness as if saying that it is something ephemeral but i am surrounded by people and i am still lonely still so very lost still mourning the me from before still so very angry still so still so

solitude: it is not a beautiful flower growing in an inhospitable place like a miracle;

dodging the crushing footsteps of the cruel and the merciless.

it is the breathing of polluted air and hurtful words and keeping love in a cage, sheltered in between your throat, my throat, our throats which hurts;

and you wish you could take it out,

the throat not the love because the love you feel has already molded itself into your body more so than the organ you were born with.

and so what i call forever ago and what you call a little while ago has gone off to perish, to bid farewell to what has been left of us

where will our love go to die after you leave, which you will but you pretend you won’t and i pretend i don’t know that i know that you will;

i need someone to be still with because i have had enough

of the chaos that has worn me out

and so i stare at the ceiling and you stare at me

you ask me what i’m thinking

nothing i say and actually mean it

for once

because you are next to me and i feel calm

for once

then the time to leave comes and all i can hear for hours after is the door closing the cars that surround me as i walk home roaring, the voices screaming that everything is ruined

and it is

because i was still and now im not

i appreciated the inch of space between us, i also appreciated the touch of a warm body next to me after months of coldness

but i can’t help but think of another person that is not you

and you can’t help but think of another person that is not me

and so, the inches turn to miles, turn to years that divide and tackle the collapsed house until there is nothing more to rebuild.