is it really okay to admit it hurts?

everyone always says it’s okay to admit it hurts,

but this, this cannot be solely described as hurt

this is not hurt, this is my heart being ripped out of my chest and being used as a soccer ball,

this is my heart being run over by a two ton truck

this is my heart being burnt alive in a raging inferno

and i am the arson.

i am the striker on the pitch, the driver of the truck,

the breaker of the heart.

i know that some things have to end for better things to begin,

i guess it’s the fear of change that has me in a chokehold,

i guess it’s the knowing that i won’t have you to text every moment something mundane happens

i guess it’s the knowing that i won’t have your voice to hear when i’m second guessing myself

i guess it’s the knowing that your kisses will become nothing but a distant memory, a collection of all the love i had to give,

a trophy.

but i haven’t won. i haven’t won anything

i haven’t worn anything in your presence, yet i leave you when i’m clothed,

i let you see me naked in my thoughts and deeds,

and now my body parts remain archives of your touch.

they say that people are seasonal,

but in my head it doesn’t register that way.

i saw you as my forever, it makes no sense,

i’m walking away from my forever.

i know it’s the right choice,

but it doesn’t feel like it.

it feels like i’m choosing to let myself suffer, in the hope of a greater good that may never truly arrive,

i’m holding on to an intangible hope, praying it doesn’t make me slide back into unhealthy habits

you were my only healthy habit.

and i speak like you’re dead but you’re living,

but what difference does it make since the grave of our love lives inside of me,

i pray that our love rests in peace.

i pray that you don’t hate me for leaving, but i know you will anyway,

i would too.

you would risk your life for me, and i would too.

but i’d rather have you alive without me than dead in my arms,

i’d rather be alive on my own than dead in your heart,

but i don’t get to choose that. you do.

i wish we made it to the altar so i could say i do,

but you think of tomorrow as an obstacle when i see it as an opportunity

you and me were never meant to last forever,

and that’s the part i dread the most.

the part i tried to avoid the most.

the part that hurts the most.