Wreckage

He is taking time to 'think'

I asked him to

I already know what he will say

It will not be good.

I'm being strong, methodical

DO NOT CRY

I write in caps on my hand.

And I don't.

And as my heart shatters in to a thousand shards

I keep smiling

He said he couldn't put his finger on it

Everything was perfect

But there was something that didn't fit:

Me.

I felt that fleeting perfection

but I never had a chance,

there was something missing:

Him.

If only he had loved me

I would have given him all of myself

Every last drop I would have wrung and squeezed out

for Him.

I don't want to think. Or cry. Or hate.

I just want to find oblivion in the arms of another.

And I will.

Be destroyed.

What sweet pain it will bring.

To fuck without deception

No false, cruel eye-gazing

or loving touches without love

Just raw, unfeeling, uncaring, oblivion.