Distorted Comforts

I don’t understand you, but you won’t let me; progress made is starting to fade, thinking of us apart for months, then caving and coming together so perfect, mere moments of bliss in exchange for this: silence and absence and things that I miss, seen face-to-face and not at all. Fantasies, possibilities if these walls would fall, but no appeal I make seems to make a dent so I go back into hiding, determined and yet, my soul aches until I need you again, and I give in.

It’s just distorted comforts, wanting things I can’t fully have, that I know won’t last… Wanting people who will comfort me then let me down just as fast.

No, the only way to stop this is to end the madness, is to let go of you at last, even if I’ll miss you always like a ghost misses her unfulfilled past.

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