Daydreams

I want the fairy tale. To be wanted, chosen, needed!

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Now I struggle to wake up, to eat.

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You were done with me, I see that now.

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Maybe in my next life I won't be so damaged.

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Maybe in my next life, I'll actually know what love is supposed to be.

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I still pray every day that you're okay, that you're happy. While for myself, I ask for nothing. Pain is fine. The worst is one day I won't remember your face. Your eyes looking at me so unhappy at the end, your voice devoid of happiness.

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Wanting you to, and not wanting you to reach out. Because I don't know if I have the strength to tell you to fuck off.

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You made your choice, and it wasn't me.

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You gave me happiness for 4 months, and now I have to learn how to breathe again.