it's about emptying a wine bottle in one sitting
it's what exists on the underside of umbrellas during a rainstorm,
inside half-filled, mostly scribbled diaries, behind closed doors of bathrooms, fucking
it's about being dry on a day when you need it the most,
where your mind wanders when you wonder who in this world has read the literature that has built your life
finally learning to love, and to share that feeling, and to share your art, and to share your mind's creations,
i regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.
like the ending of missing someone, like the ending of missing a fleeting feeling, and to have found it again
taking everything i've ever done, everyone i've ever met, every word i've ever heard, every feeling i've ever shared, and leaving it all here
i missed you even when i was around you, i surround myself with things that are already missing
and i hated myself for going. why couldn't i have been the kind of person who stays?
i'm so afraid of losing something i love that i refuse to love anything.