Cold coffee, dried out markers, torn pages, unfinished reports, and one-sided love.
You were everything I needed to get through my day. All the things that would keep me alive and out of trouble, but you made our love incomplete.
The coffee, my pick-up on those days when sleep just wasn’t an option. You made it cold. You stole the heart, the warmness, the coziness, and the love out of it. As much as it hurt me, you forced me to drink every last drop.
The colorful markers that I used to draw with when I was stressed out of my mind. You took them, wasting the ink and leaving them for me to use. I guess neither you nor the colors wanted to stick around long enough.
The pages I read when I wanted to be someone else, live in another story, and escape my own destiny. You stole my books and you burned them in the bonfire I wasn’t invited to. I became stuck in this life for good, with an inevitable fate.
The reports I had known about for weeks. The ones I had started and was nearly done with. You erased my data, everything I had, and left me with nothing to turn in. Writer’s block overwhelmed me and I failed those classes the same way I failed our relationship.
The love I gave you every second of every day. You took advantage of it. You wasted it like energy and stripped it of its vibrant colors. You burned that love, leaving only those ashes of the remains in my view. And you erased all of it; all that hard work gone to waste. I was trapped on my own with nowhere to go, no one to run to, and no escape from this fatal reality.