I always wanted it to be you.
But my soul chose the latter between disappointment and the promise of change.
I couldn’t stay, while you stole from me. You lived in the secrets I brushed across your forehead and through your hair. You clung to the wilting white frames of us kissing and laughing in corners together. And maybe you could continue burning on the fumes of my siphoned heart.
But my soul couldn’t. Even though I always wanted it to be you.
And the truth is, I still do.