Late Night Melancholy

I sat up last night on the phone with you,

I sat there and listened to every painful detail that you were saying.

And you said it was over.

You told me that you didn't know what you wanted.

You said this as if I didn't know either.

I don't know what it is about love,

But I've never been good at it.

However, Instead of feeling that way, I always felt good at loving you.

And now I try to keep it down.

I try to breathe normally but it always seems uneven when I start to think of you.

The moment you told me you were done,

I froze.

It was like not being able to see anymore.

And for the first fucking time in I don’t know how long,

I built up my walls.

I wasn’t going to let you touch my heart again.

Because last time, it started to ache.

It had ached as if it was thrown against a wall.

And it has ached since then.

It aches in the shower,

In bed,

While I write this fucking poem.

No, I will not let you fucking touch my heart again, and no I don’t hate you.

In fact, I love you with every ounce of me.

My pure being is solely based on you.

But this pain has changed me, changed us.

This is just my late-night melancholy.

C.b.