it's an odd sense of "i'm over you"

It's just like looking up and never seeing any stars.
It's like wishing on streetlights and blank television screens,
like blowing out the candle after smashing the present box. 

You were a disguise for myself to hide in, a well placed 
moment in a horrible part of town, and I should've known 
better. Why didn't I know better? You see, sometimes the

things we wish for come as a twisted joke. I think Fate has
an odd sense of humor like that. It's like finding the genie 
lamp and drowning it in oil. We so often take advantage of 

the moments we're given, but forget that they're only moments.
You can't live a lifetime while only living in one moment.
One day, that moment will fade and you're still wishing for

a life you'll never have. One day, your life will begin to fade
and you'll be left wishing for that one flash of a memory 
one last time. I think that's how I feel about you now.

I don't miss you. I miss the moments I shared with you.
If I took you out, erased the bad side of every equation,
and replaced it with something or someone new, I would

have successfully recreated the same exact moment. So
why did you matter so much? You were a hilariously 
sad excuse of a disguise, but god did it work so well.

Everyone stopped asking if I was okay when you were 
around. No one cared to see if the smile I had was because 
of you, or because finally I had something to hid behind.

I could be vulnerable and protected at the same time. I
didn't have to wait for the walls to fall around the 
kingdom I created for my mind, you simply let 

yourself in. Why did I let you in? Sometimes, I
think I forget that being an open book allows 
people to write their own opinions in my story.

My kingdom is a wild, guarded, inexperienced mind 
that still has overgrown and unexplored parts that I
wish someone could set fire to, not to destroy but to 

bring light to finally. I hid in my disguise, you, so 
that while I was burning inside everything seemed fine
to those I care about most. When I was with you, my 

moments were caressed like soft skin by calloused hands,
chapped lips pressed to red lacquered ones, and suddenly
both of us were caught in a chaos. This is a set of moments

sometimes I wish could be packed into a car, then that car be
smashed into a brick wall. I want to take my kingdom and find 
a new queen to rule it, or at least, to slap me and tell me to wake

the hell up. Your smile, a brisk morning chill that only sunlight 
could warm, was the reason my moments were worth existing
in. But now your smile brings a shudder up my shine, and 

I want nothing more than to smash my mirror because
god, I can still see the space where your hands have 
touched. If my hands could talk, they would scream 

at me for holding on to you for too long. If my hands 
could talk, they would ask me why the mask you 
gave me was the moment I decided to grasp onto. 










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