So this is it, the end of whatever this was.
A friendship? I guess. We acted like friends. Sometimes anyways.
A crutch? Absolutely. When I was running off the rails I’d always come back to you to dole out my abuse. You made my soul ache for that unhealthy part of you.
An escape? Yeah, I think so. You let me be me. Wild, unpredictable me. Nobody had ever done that.
A mistake? I’m pretty sure this is the most accurate. You brought out the worst in me and I brought out the worst in you. We ignited the sky with our destruction and reveled in it. Nothing is as beautiful as falling ash against the horizon, lit ablaze.
I still want you. I can’t understand it but I still want to rip the clothes from your body and impale myself onto your desire for me. The welts from my nails down your chest and my dental records imprinted on your shoulders.
Tell me all of the dirty thoughts that run through your head. Speak them into life. Will them into existence. Use me. Toy with me. Make me kneel. Make it hurt.
That isn’t who you really were though. The foul-mouthed man who made me giddy with bad ideas and the desire to fuck them into life. You couldn’t be him. It was a play. You were soft. You were weak. The restlessness inside of me overwhelmed you and you wilted. You were one of my biggest disappointments.
And I still stand here disappointed as you walk away. Disappointed it wasn’t better. Disappointed it wasn’t sooner. Disappointed that I didn’t have anything to scream at you with tears in my eyes. Disappointed you didn’t call me one last nasty name. Disappointed it ever happened in the first place.
Just Like Lana 