and so it goes.

My wall has water stains on it. It doesn't bother me all that much right now, but I can't imagine how it make me feel later on.
It reminds me so much of when my computer was on the other side of the room, right beside the wall I made with him before. After I took all those pictures down, the empty spaces that clearly used to have things filling them really messed with me. They felt like spaces in myself.
I tried so hard to fill those spaces with anything I could, but nothing was the right size. Nothing could fill them without leaving little gaps somewhere.

Those months I kept shoving things in the wound instead of letting myself heal. Those months I kept trying to put other people in his place when, really, no one can ever do that. The space fits him, and him only.

And now, like my mother always used to tell me, I'm going to try and stop worrying about the "what if's" of the past. They're done, untouchable, and unchangeable.


I'll cry about this
and hide my cuckled eyes
as you come off all concerned
and I'll find no solace
in your poor apology,
in your regret that sounds absurd,
and keep singing -

"I'll wait my turn
to tear inside you,
watch you burn..."