I have a hole in my chest

Fallen promises and broken dreams, it all makes me weary and empty.
If I could weave a seamless seam then I would be complete.
I didn't even know I wanted you so badly, until I knew that you didn't.
The forbidden fruit is bittersweet, and still mouthwatering. And still haunting.

How one can be so consumed by concern for ones own well-being amazes me, time and again. If there is not a problem, we will invent one, if there is not lust, then we will pry anyway.

Even though I am being rational, logical, a sane type of being, it still hurts, this inexplicable wound that appeared out of nowhere, where I thought no wound would ever fit again. I have harmed myself again, and all because I imagined a different life, if not for living, then for dreaming. But no more, all is broken now. No more dreaming for me. As if I could decide. How could I possibly change two years of dreams on a whim of sudden determination? No, it will not work. And maybe I don't want it to. Maybe I want to wallow in the pain for a while, to remember, to be myself again.

How do you hurt quietly?

I wish I could be certain, that you aren't telling lies. My heart tells me you are, your words tell me no. And I don't want to accuse you, of anything. You accuse yourself too much. I wish I could help you, and myself, but I guess I have to choose.