yet somehow made it better

2

whatever happens out here one thing is certain: you will account for me

Maybe one day after these many, you’ll want to come back into my life. The pain I dragged on my shoulders after you left kept me a burden. I needed you to leave, to show myself how much you cared. I believe in everyone, that they won’t hurt me, that they won’t throw my heart away. After falling in love with people and having those people show there appreciation in different ways, you just have hope. I had hope. After one too many, then believing you were different or somewhat wonderful. It took me by surprise when you left me that day. But yet somehow made me better. There’s been others before you, acting as if my feelings were nothing. Taking away the only pride left I had of myself. But I always saw in them they didn’t feel the way I did. But you did. You were broken, you were torn down, but you were still in love. In love with the person who did you most harm. As much as you thought I didn’t understand that, I did. I took your conversations Daily about what hurt, and I tried to help. I guess trying to help the person you were falling in love with only made you hurt more. So as I understood your position, I, myself was in the same one. The countless hours we would spend discussing how we would hold each other if we could made me believe you had some love left In you. Some love that hasn’t been taken away from past lovers. I believed someone cared about me. And that someone was you. But as you left that day my hope was broken. Everyday id fight myself the feeling to look at your face. But yet I did. Eventually I pleaded to take our somewhat friendship back. I didn’t have hope anymore, but the way you said you missed me made me think I did. I didn’t tell you my feelings anymore because I knew you wouldn’t care. But I cared, and you felt that. Eventually you not feeling the same was all that matters and then you were gone. Just like that, like nothing mattered. Yet all I want is your happiness, in which that’s all I ever wanted.
—  Just something I wrote

You said not everything is meant to last

But you said this was
That this was meant for forever

Yet somehow I can go?

You said your soul is dying
That you overdosed on thoughts

But you said I lit you up
That your soul was bright
And that your thoughts were music

Yet somehow it’s better this way?

You made promises
You said so much

You said too much
And now you keep on speaking

But I


i have fallen silent

—  “You said, You said,” Poems to Beatrice.