Late nights
Happy endings
They call it lust –
It’s love pretending
Secrets kept
Deleted texted
They call it passion
But they forget
Passion fades
Hearts break
Torn between
Regret and mistake
Late nights
Happy endings
They call it lust –
It’s love pretending.
So you say
You’re never drinking again
And at the end of the day
The loneliness sits in
So you fill the cup
And you take a sip
Allowing yourself
To get lost in it
Then the next morning
You feel the pain
The sting of regret
Keeps happening
And you make promises
Telling yourself
No more drinking
It’s bad for your health
Like a broken record
It plays again
When you’re with everyone
Even with friends
You crave a sip
You say “just tonight”
And promise yourself –
It’s the last time
But the drink is poison
And it takes control
Intoxicating addiction
Dangerous yet wonderful
Then the next morning
You tell yourself
It was the last time
Put the bottle on the shelf
So you say
You’re never drinking again
But towards the end of the day
The loneliness sits in
So you call him up
For one last fix
You lie to your heart
And say this is it.
You were like a fine wine
I couldn’t afford
And every time I saw the bottle
It made me want it more
I could see you in my glass
The mood set by candlelight
Scared of what I knew was coming
I told myself ‘afford it tonight’
Tell the server to leave the cork
Then swirl, inhale – take a sip
Close my eyes and let them rest
Indulging in the lusciousness
Getting lost in the shades of grape
Tracing the rim with my fingertips
Before I knew it the bottle was empty –
Leaving purple stains on my lips
A letter to an old love. An addiction I somehow overcame.
I gave in again. I keep telling myself it will be the last time. Why are you a weakness for me? I know we won’t be together, especially now when you’ve committed to her. You love her – you talk about her all the time. You tell the world how amazing she is and how happy she makes you. If that’s true how can you still want me? How can you still kiss me and be intimate with me? Why do I let myself love you? Do I love you?
The older I get and the more ‘love’ I feel, the more I realize how many different types of love are out there. The love I have for you isn’t the smitten, butterfly-feeling, puppy-love. It’s not the ‘I want to be with you forever and have kids with you’ kind of love. It’s not an in-love kind of love. It’s a love of comfort, a love of familiarity – it’s a love you feel when you’re home. There’s a sense of familiarity when our bodies entwine themselves together. There’s a comfort in the way you make me smile. There’s feelings of trust I don’t have with anyone else. You’re one of my best friends. I can talk to you about anything and you don’t judge me. You only speak the truth to me, even if it hurts – especially if it hurts.
But you can’t love me – there’s no way. You can’t love me if you continuously allow me to be yours whenever it’s convenient for you but only give yourself to me physically. You love yourself. It’s your biggest downfall. We need to stop doing this. It’s not fair to me and it’s definitely not fair to her. It’s been months of this. You broke my heart in a million pieces once and I stopped the ‘being in love’ part of loving you. I pushed you away and said I was done. Then we started again somehow – you and I both always try to end this. But here we are, giving in again. I wonder if this was the last time, I think we need for it to be. But the thought of not being with you again hurts me in a different kind of way.
It’s not the makes-me-cry kind of hurt. It’s not the kind of hurt where I need a night out with the girls or a rebound hookup kind of hurt. It’s the kind of hurt that punches you in the gut and leaves you feeling empty.
So I don’t think this was the last time. I don’t want to stop giving into you – not yet. Not until I know why you say you love me when you’re making love to me. Not until I know why we miss each other when it’s been some time since we’ve spent time together. I won’t stop giving into you until I know why you chose to give yourself to her and not to me. I’m not ready for our goodbye. If I’m being honest, I’ll never be satisfied with us just being friends.
You’re my safety – you feel like home to me – and there’s no place like home. I don’t feel comfortable with anyone else. How can I? My walls are built and my doors are locked and you’re the only one who has the key.
I’m going to regret this is the morning. But you’ll thank me someday when we pass each other randomly like strangers. You won’t realize it but you’ll be grateful you don’t remember me, grateful not to remember us.
I want you to know I didn’t run because of you, I ran because of me. I ran because I have feelings and because you let me. And mostly because I want it all and I said I don’t want anything – and I lied.
I’m not made out of mystery. I’m made out of a damage childhood and a long, overwritten story. You don’t want to have to think about this. My chapters aren’t ones you will read. I’m not the one you want – I’m not the girl next door. I’m not rainbows and butterflies; I’m fucked up – I’m damaged. It’s better you know now than to think I’m going to be something I’m not.
If you’ve heard anything, you’ve heard what I’ve said in the secret moments of lust and passion. Do you think a ‘normal’ woman would be the way I am with you behind closed doors? You don’t want me – you don’t want to date me. You don’t want to hear my name. You don’t want to let me love you. You don’t want to be the man to ‘save me’.
I’m fucking jealous – I’m envious. I get clingy. I’m insecure. I have anxiety. I’m an overthinker. I don’t want to have to burden you with all of this. I don’t want you to have to pay for their mistakes – just like I don’t want to pay for hers. So run. Just run. Run while you can – get the fuck away.
I think you already knew – and you pushed me away before I could run. You said you didn’t have feelings for me, you couldn’t be what I deserve. I think you’re lying. I think when someone wants and desires to be with someone – when you find the person so intriguing, so unique and they make you happy – you do whatever it takes. You’re as lost and broken as I am. Fuck, maybe I’m even more lost after you. You’ve had a long, bad relationship with a narcissistic manipulator and I’ve been struggling with all of this my entire life. We cannot compare. We cannot determine who has felt more and who has hurt more. It’s impossible.
I wish I could have known you. I wish you would have let me. But all we will have were those moments of lust and passion behind closed doors in a darkened house. I’d never have known enough about you, I would have always wanted more. Every day. I wouldn’t have changed you, I would have challenged you. That makes a hell of a difference.
But we were strangers who became friends who became lovers. I became a woman who wanted to love you and you became another man to leave me behind. Maybe we were never meant to meet – maybe we were meant for forever. Now we will never know. We were lovers who lost a friendship – we were friends who became strangers. I’ll never forget our time together – all the details about us you won’t remember. I’ll forgive you for forgetting me. I’ll forget the regret I’ll feel in the morning.
The Dalema 