In a state of thixotropy

He doesn’t realize

He has no idea how much it took for me to ask him to stay. He has no idea how hard it was for me to ask him not to go. I don’t think he’ll ever know how much it took for me to ask that of him and when he turned and left anyway… he’ll never know that I won’t ever ask him to stay again. Not under circumstances that are even remotely similar. It won’t matter, it seems. It can’t be worked through. It can’t be fixed. He’s still going to turn and leave.

So I just won’t ask him to stay.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And when I heard a motorcycle in the silence of the night, but loud enough for me to hear, I hoped it was him coming back. It wasn’t, and a little part of me is disappointed by my hope of romanticism that isn’t there… and might never be.

Who’s the pathetic one now?

Tags: pain, the boy
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