If drunk words are sober thoughts, then what the hell are you? Drunkenly thinking about the way you spend your life with this other person drives me into a craze. I’m smashing the keys on an undeserving keyboard because of you. I’ve spent the last few years tormented, between sober thoughts and drunk confessions to friends about the great “she”. Meanwhile, you’ve spent the last few years creating space between the both of us. All in an effort for what? You belittle and destroy me with the few words I reap every now and then. You say you’re over it and you say I’m in the past, yet here we are once again doing what we do best: contemplating and discerning our feelings for each other.

As someone who knows exactly how it feels to be entangled in the web that is love, I know you’re not over this. And as long as you’re not, my foolish brain will continue to believe there is hope. Hope for a love that has been snuffed out and re-lit so many times, it is unsure of its purpose. Maybe one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, you’ll be free to follow what you so desperately try to hide. Your heart. And on that day, hopefully I’m in the position, to let you right back in. Right back where we left off. In a relationship so plagued by pain it ceases to understand the peacefulness of normalcy. My heart has never ceased to know you, but my mind has fought with logic to forget you. I am here, always have been and evidently, always will be. The man in the mirror speaks volumes to the woman in my dreams and as long as she remains there, he will always be a dark shade of grey. Grey that seems to penetrate the very shell of my body, down to my soul.