It is done.

I think of nothing.

I eat not, I sleep not.
I am, once more, lost; Alone.

I see you there pretending to be okay,
softening a reality for me
and I think I don’t want you to,
I don’t want you.

I talked to your present
and realized how lonely he is just with you.
I look at you and am unable to See you
but your future: that special someone
that will make you turn your head
fall in love.

I wish I had been that someone
but, as before I am no more than a friend now
and a stranger tomorrow.

I truly know your future,
because I have lived it.
Over and over my reality repeats itself
never to change.
I should be used to it by now.
Yet it pains still.
No more will my heart be given to anyone.

No new rivers will grow nor trees planted;
no more suns and starts to be shared
no more rides among the clouds
in a magic flying carpet.
It is done.

Maxwell Black
November 20, 2009
02.46pm