Why is it that morning is the worst time

For me to realize all these things?

In the same bed, in a different life, in a lonely room

I'm next to someone and so isolated it's ridiculous;

Still wondering,

Still waiting,

Still beating myself up over you.

I realize that it's hurting you to know this,

That it's your fault I won't smile as much anymore.

But you've got to realize

It's your fault that I'm lost now.

And all the things that made sense,

Fell apart a long time ago..

Watching you sleep was the most painful night of my life,

Like watching something priceless burst into flames,

Like killing a loved one.

Like having something right in front of me and forever out of reach.

It's funny now to realize and say,

I was completely fucking terrified that night

Of staying too long

Of making you wonder too much

Of giving myself completely and unavoidably away.

But it's not like you would've noticed.

Not you,

Never you

Always you.

You fucking bastard.

It's perfectly fine that I'm less than an in-between,

Not good enough for a mercy fuck

Not sad enough to be ignored.

I can deal with that.

It's perfectly fine that even though

I can say anything to anyone,

And laugh through their tears,

I can't say a fucking word to you.

And these long-winded epitaphs,

These conclusions I worked on for days

Die in my fucking mouth the second you look at me.

I can't look back at you,

Can't risk you really seeing

How much it hurts,

How bad I want this

How much I hate you

For loving you.

But I'm not making sense,

I never do,

And that's perfectly fine.

You're a smart enough guy.

You know exactly what Fine means.

You arrogant, well-read, over the top

Absolutely fucking perfect

Bastard.