maybe it's all over.
>>> So maybe it’s
all over, and maybe it’s better for both of us that it
is. But I still have all these memories and these feelings
that I don’t know what to do with, like the loose
change in my pockets that can’t be spent. I can’t
give away the sound of your laughter, or the feeling of your
arms around mine. There is nothing I can do with the scraps
of that creation which once was us, which once was happiness.
Sometimes I think about calling you, but I’ve got
nothing left to say, and I can’t even remember how it
used to be when we could talk for hours without needing a
break. How did we exist like that? How did we become like
this, two separate entities? At what point did it all just
stop, when did a crack in our framework become a hole in the
foundation and when did broken become unfixable?
When did I
stop loving you and start loving a memory?