victoriousk

I wish I didn’t care.
I’m not even surprised.
Just hurt.
Again.
Lonely.
Again.
Disappointed.
Again.

I don’t think I trust you anymore. That’s the worst part. I always had trust in you. Even in us, in some way. It’s totally gone now.
I would cry myself to sleep. But I have no more tears for you.

Why do I miss and want you so much more at night?
I know why.
Beyond that lying here in bed, in dark and quiet, makes me more contemplative; not only that tired but not sleepy I want arms around me to help me drift off; it’s more than the silence is pleading with me to be filled with your whispers and laugh::
Nights were our time to be- with no eyes weighing us with expectations and judgements til we almost collapsed; as everyone else was quiescent we were active, boisterious, while we learned, laughed, danced away in halls and parks; they were a time for us to share, dreams and failures and things so inconsequential they were all that mattered. For it was so important to have the sharing of them with you.
In the dark, we could be as close as we liked, as we wanted; had to be, to hear and see you.
Most of my best memories of you come from nighttime.
But like other things of the night, we are only a dream, as fleeting and wishful as the rest of it’s kind.
And I never remember my dreams.
It’s almost too bad I can’t help but remember you.