Ironically, the stars grow dimmer in the shadows that lengthen and darken our lives, casting a depression on our hearts and a melancholy on our minds. It's not healing, this wound you left on me; or perhaps it just needs more time, more than the two months its already had. Two months of anguish, of crying out in the night, in the silences, seething with incomprehensible pain unbeknownst to anyone. Getting over annoyances are easy, but leaving behind people, that's a whole other matter, one which I am not able to overcome.
I think sometimes that we were caught up in something that neither of us quite understood. Thus we were afraid to take it further. Our relationship was deceptive, our story even more so. None but we know the truth, and that truth is that there was nothing. Nothing could be more anticlimactic than nothing, nothing more disappointing. And yet, that is what happened between us. Even though we both might have wished otherwise.
I'm apologetic for the both of us always being at each other's throat, snared by a battle of emotions worthy of an epic. I'm sorry that neither of us came out of it entirely whole.