I’m beginning to think I’ve been wrong all along.
Perhaps love shouldn’t be free, and I shouldn’t have loved so carelessly. I should have charged, extravagantly, then maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t be so drained, so empty, so lost, so cold.
There’s nothing left for me here.
No happy endings. No timeless romance.
I can only love in dreams, and even then I dream of tragedy. I dream of star crossed lovers, unrequited love, mistakes and untimely misunderstandings. My own failures haunt me, stealing the last symptom of a smile, leaving me with only bitter memories and finally, abandoning me as I choke on tears.