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Ecstacy turns into this.
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Freedom: College Year 1 Let me tell you what it is to lose love.
It is not tears in the pillow for three straight years.
It is not yearning for the boy who left you
at the height of your beauty.
It is not the things I did when I decided
to never let him go.
It is us, here on the phone, broken up and still
fighting about things that will never change.
It is remembering the true us, at disneyland, knowing for the first time
ecstacy.
It is us, wasting day after day after day
saying
exactly the same things,
no passion,
no patience,
just words that get lost in some void, unheard.
We will never understand each other,
and we will never stop trying.
This is not sadness that feels beautiful,
like my first love, this is ugly sadness,
raw between us like a bloody festering pig.
Maybe we should stop talking, because it seems
the more we try to heal this wound,
the more we realize the other one is an
infection.
