My eyes coast the curve of your jaw warily, and I tire of the thirst for your touch. My fingers weaken in strength, and I ache to hold your hand. My tongue brushes my lips unconsciously, and I sigh because you do not notice, you never notice, you never see. I wonder: what was the point of? Do you not see our love dissolve? I do. I am here every tick of the clock and our magnetic force grows weak.

You build me up to break me down. Earn my trust to shatter it. Steal my weaknesses to exploit them. You heal my heart, only to murder it again. Wipe the blood, only to splatter your own share of it. But still, what would I do without you? Every breath reminds me of the void in my chest, of the colourlessness of life. Every breath is cold, lonely, and meaningless. Every breath without you shakes and shudders and catches.

Just like that, I am broken. Your words have the power to destroy me and you know it. When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less. But with you it is different. With every drop of crimson that stains our carpet, I know I should love you less and less, I know the hate should be building up, ready to burst and contort lives.

But it just slips out the window in the dead of night, waving and crying.

You ruin me but you make life worth living. I have no idea how you manage both. You were the one who yearned to see the skyline, yearned for simplicity and freedom. You made me remember what countryside felt like. You made me remember what the present had made me forget and what my ancestors couldn't remind me: that my surroundings weren't real. That the infinite rush and worry weren't worth fighting for. That the rules made weren't always right. You made me feel the moss under my feet and the moonlight on my skin.

I am desperately yearning for you to return. I do not know which version of you will walk through our midnight blue front door. You could be smiling that beautiful, glowing, alive smile, so innocent and carefree, ready to wrap me in your arms and share stories of our days. You could be smiling that cruel, lingering, sinister smile that means there will be no storytelling, only awkward silences as I wait for the first punch to fall. You could be smiling that sexy, light, suggestive smile, meaning we will dance in the moonlight and skip up to bed, drowning in our love.

You could be anyone or anything and at the same time you will always be mine and I will always be yours: your belonging, your property, your pet. You are mine and I am yours. Except, you are not really mine anymore. You are trip and fall and blunder away from me into a shadowy, mysterious and gloomy world where I am not welcome. I cannot be a part of your depression and you cannot be a part of my happiness. We co-exist in the in-between. We live inside the shades of grey, reaching out to link hands, joining what never should be and never truly was.

Our co-existing cannot go on. I cannot live with my bruised, broken, battered and beaten body. Maybe I could if it was not by your hands. Oh, but it is you who gashes and slits, splits and tears, ruptures and slashes though my tender flesh, my aching soul. Slowly, your sexy, airy smile melted away as did your beautiful, innocent love. Men can become monster far too easily. I wonder how easy it is for a monster to become a man?

I am desperately yearning for you to return so that I can kiss your cherry stained lips goodbye and drift into the cold night, dragging my suitcase full of old, lost love behind me. Tell me, were we ever worth it?

I already know the answer. It is not the one I want to hear.