I swore on the grave of all the dreams I had abandoned, I wouldn’t let you get to me. I swore on the sun and I swore on the moon, and I swore on the love that made them chase each other across the heavens- the sadness would never find a home in my ribs again. I promised myself that I would wait for you, I’d wait for as long as I had to because I knew, I knew you were coming and I promised myself I wouldn’t doubt you.
But the sadness is here again now, breaking down my door, and you are not. And I’m left sitting here in resignation, wondering if you ever even really existed, if you weren’t just a figment of my desperation, I’m left sitting here counting down the ticks and tocks of this old dusty clock until the sadness floods in to smother me; I’m left sitting here craving the bitter taste of tobacco and death again, craving the feeling of vengeful pleasure that came with the tar smoke corrupting my lungs with every inhale and every cough; I am left sitting here, craving my own end, and thinking ‘God, I should’ve known better than to let a dream wreck me like this. I should’ve fucking known better.’