I know it's pathetic to keep our conversations,
as if in time they'll be of use to me again.
That clinging on to you even when you've been gone,
will be all the worthwhile.
I know she is yours.
I know you are hers.
And i know I never stood a chance against what was meant to be.
I wish you would've told me.
I wish I got a reason.
And I wish this didn't have to hurt as bad as it does.
You have people come to you,
and you push them away.
I have people stay away from me,
and I chase after them in hopes I can change their mind.
But they leave,
as did you.
And i can say it a thousand times but it will never truly amount to how incredibly hollow i feel.
I am carved from the inside out and stuffed with cotton to mask the empty pit my body has become.
She is yours.
You are hers.
And I am alone.