Tragic was always a word I found myself gravitating to for its a word to describe many scenarios, feelings and moments in life, although love seems to be the most tragic thing of all. I see the tragedy that was my parents and I would feel the ache of a tragic love story through the pages of a book,though nothing could ever prepare me for the devastating feeling of being the subject of one. It can be beautiful in a way of course, falling into this dark hole of sickly emotions with the one person you would ever let yourself fall like that with. I wasn’t that person for him but him for me, which just adds to that horrible pit of feelings but I can't seem to step away from it and back away from the ledge. I still look down and see hope somewhere in that dark abyss. I might call that delusion if it weren't for the fact that he isn't quite backing away either. He goes down first and I, like a dog, follow.
Bloody noses and secrets kept, hiding away in a bedroom or bathroom separately, though we’re together. Amongst the mess there is warmth and love but does that hold importance over all else?
The tip of my nose and fingers feel cold and a fog always floats throughout my head but through the fog I hear your voice, your laugh guides me and I’m home.