danwin:

I fade into the shadows of evanescence, and I can see myself turning into nothing more than a figure of the past within your mind. It penetrates my heart, and I can feel the atrophy of mind.

You have been embedded onto my heart, much like the ink that scripts these pages upon my written sheets of sweet nothings. I can reiterate the words once written for you, and it wouldn’t mean anything unless it wasn’t said to you in the first place. 

I have been forgotten by the person that I wanted the most — and it’s just rather disdainful to feel these sentiments of desperation; and I feel pitiful looking into a reflection of delusional desires, of a figure so unforgiving; it does not receive my approbation.

And now I’m stuck in between the cracks, while I watch you walk away without much adieu nor a word to spare. Not even a whisper to grant myself a formal farewell, not even a gesture that suggests a second coming between you and I.