18

This is the soundtrack of our last dance. The leaking drain where we threw away our last opportunities and second chances. Where forgiveness is but a doubt, and love is but a foreign concept, indescribable and unreachable. Hung on to haunting memories and ghosts of you. I'm sinking in my chest, with the rising instance of pain being blocked away by denial. Acceptance. Your voice sounds like screeching violins while you utter the final words to this call. Drop the phone and pick up the pieces. Reality, so eloquently placed throughout life, yet so ignored by dreamers. I'm starry-eyed, but the sky is rainy tonight. Cloudy, and heavy. Placing my feet upon Earth, where they belong. I was never meant to keep you so close, and that realization is probably what haunts me the most.