Ecstacy turns into this.

Let me tell you what it is to lose love.

It is not tears in the pillow for three straight years.

It is not yearning for the boy who left you

at the height of your beauty.

It is not the things I did when I decided

to never let him go.



It is us, here on the phone, broken up and still

fighting about things that will never change.

It is remembering the true us, at disneyland, knowing for the first time

ecstacy.

It is us, wasting day after day after day

saying

exactly the same things,

no passion,

no patience,

just words that get lost in some void, unheard.

We will never understand each other,

and we will never stop trying.

This is not sadness that feels beautiful,

like my first love, this is ugly sadness,

raw between us like a bloody festering pig.

Maybe we should stop talking, because it seems

the more we try to heal this wound,

the more we realize the other one is an

infection.

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