Slide
You were crawling; reaching for the phone to ring anyone, but anyone who'd ever meant anything didn't know you anymore. You'd made your mistakes, and you consoled yourself, saying: 'inside, everybody's hiding something'. But the only thing you were missing was me.
You sat and passed your days telling the same, blue walls your thoughts – you didn't try to help yourself, and I'm only sorry you lost your faith in us. The dark rings around your eyes that grew with every sleepless night betrayed that you needed some rest. I haven't seen that childish spark in those eyes of yours in such a long time; I miss it dangerously.
Don't slide.
And when the nights seemed all too long, you'd curl up before the hot fire and tell yourself that 'it's all right to make mistakes', knowing the words meant nothing to your broken ears. The morning always seemed so far away, so out of reach; you almost believed that you were alone in your pain.
But then my amber eyes would burn in your mind and you knew, in that moment, that you were the one who'd brought pain on all those who had loved you. And you'd shake, realising that you'd forgotten how to be happy without me. You were so afraid.
Though worst of all was when the ache eating away at your head and your heart got too much, and you'd hiss to yourself how 'you brought it upon yourself'. And you'd realise, silently, deep-down that it was time you thought of something else instead.
But Syaoran...