Think back two years.
I mean, I know that's a long time ago,
But really think back two years.
Wait, hold up, slow it down,
I said think back to the years,
To the years where you were happy,
To the years where you felt something,
To the years where you had love.
When you were still intact with your brain,
When your brain was still intact with your heart,
When your heart was still intact with your body.
When you felt the rapid beating of the melody your heart used to make.
When your eyes would grow big when you
Saw something, need something, or even thought about something
That made you whole.
Your probably laughing at the thought of it now, saying
“Why are you even talking about this, hmm?”
“Your too young to know what love is,”
“You're too immature to know the basis of it,”
“You’ve never felt what genuine TRUE LOVE felt like.”
However, if I never felt true love
Then how would I know what heartbreak is?
Heartbreak is when you feel like you can’t breathe.
Heartbreak is when you run to the bathroom,
And just let everything go.
Heartbreak is when you lock yourself in your room,
In the dark, with your headphones in,
With your music on full blast, crying your eyes out,
Trying to let the pain drift away.
Heartbreak is hate and love
At the same time
Heartbreak is knowing that they are gone.
Heartbreak is hearing “I’m not happy anymore.”
After you put your time, blood, sweat, and tears
Into the relationship, into that person, and it all went to waste.
But then again, I don’t know what I’m talking about, right?
So I shouldn’t know what it feels like to miss him
Or to accept that fact that I lost him.
I shouldn’t know the pain that comes with hearing
“I don’t love you anymore,”
Or “We’ve changed.”
To the point where you got too attached,
So your hanging to the memories by a string.
Like a hug, in a way.
Like you’re falling in and out of love.
It’s saying you do when you really don’t
It’s the struggle to say goodbye
It’s seeing him
Walking past him
Like strangers
Trying to put your pride to the side
Thinking about “that” phone call
Hearing that one song
Knowing that’s your song
The raging flames that come about in your heart
But I shouldn’t have these feelings, right?
That one tear
Your dry mouth
That sore throat
Zero words
Every word
That hugging him
That kissing him
The holding him
His bright smile
His good looks
Those weird “maybes”
The good
The bad
The dark
The light
The scraped knees
The cut wrists
The burned tip fingers
The black and blue bruises
The rain, ohh the rain
The thunder, the lightning,
The bandages, the makeup
The hiding, the masks
The denial
The “He’s never coming back”
The “He’s gone for good”
And it hurts, more than you’ll ever know.
But I shouldn’t know what that feels like, right?