Foreclosure

I asked to know how she felt. For closure. She wouldn't say. She didn't want to say. She didn't want to be the bad guy to break my heart. She didn't want to be responsible for breaking me apart. She said, 'you always want closure, it's not fair, it’s not that easy, that’s not always what it's all about.'

 

But, you don't start a book, and then, just not finish it. You don't start a film, and then, just not finish it. You don't live, and then, just not die. Closure is essential to the fabric of human life. No stone left unturned, unless too heavy, boring, or hard. No dish left uneaten unless it leaves a s**t, sour, taste in your mouth.

 

So the closure I conclude from her evasive nature, is that, I am the book she started but hated. I am the foul taste in her mouth. I am the bad film she regrets seeing and halfway, walked out. I am the stone that became too heavy, boring and hard.

 

I sunk my own ship. The captain always goes down. It's hardly fair that I also expected her to drown.

 

Poor girl.