You always look away, so I try to do you a favor by doing the same – even if it hurts. Yet it still ends with me being the bad guy when in fact you were the one who cheated in the first place.
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The rain hasn't stopped; as if it knows what I am feeling deep within – consoling my beaten soul as I reminisce our perceived last disagreement.
I open my eyes, trying to see what lies beyond the now empty room in front of me. His distinct silhouette gone with his promise of forever, leaving me with shattered hopes and lingering pain that shaken my very core – I can't breath.
I sat down, look at the picture beside me, held it as if never letting go of that captured perfection. How I yearn for that moment in time wherein everything is so surreal. Yet the past lies beyond one's grasps, a point in time wherein no one can relieve, a place which is subjected to time, fading each passing day.
I look at your face intently, that cheerful image you conveyed has been a fabrication of deceit and infidelity. I once trusted that smile you have bestowed on me, as if a source of life; now the only thing I see is lies and disappointments.
Persuading myself to believe that you have done such act, lies, to protect me – guarding my feelings to this cruel world we live in. I have accustomed myself sleeping alone day after day, and will eventually wake up with you by my side and that smell of cheap perfume. I was led to believe that loving someone is better than none at all. And the fact that you still come home by the end of the day is what keeps me secure – that everything will be fine.
I felt that I was never needed, so I try to do you a favor and distant myself to this deteriorating relationship. I never dated, for the fear of guilt might consume me. I lessen our conversations, and in two weeks time you have noticed. Sadly, I was portraying the wrong information when you told me we are over.
You blamed me, for not giving you the love that you needed. I never knew that you are in need of such affection – perhaps a hundred dollar whore cannot satisfy that passion within you. What choice do I have as I fail to regain you - you left; you left me here, where I am right now, alone.
Did I make the right choice of leaving such a man? Yet how come I feel guilty? Yet how come I feel as if I was the one who cheated given that I was the one left behind.