Idealism

If i could, I would just go downstairs

And you‘ll say that you don’t care, that you never cared, and that you don’t give a shit about what happens tomorrow. But I hear the tremble in your voice, I learned how to tell when you were truly upset from when you were just mad, anger bubbling beneath the surface, and I wish you‘d just say that tonight was a disaster, that we were a disaster, but you don’t. So I‘ll let you think that I believe you when you say that you don’t feel a thing and I‘ll let you go even though I know you just want to be held one last fucking time. You’ll let me think that everything that’s ever come out of your mouth was a lie when in reality you have never learned how to tell the poisonous words you throw around so carelessly from the truth. When in reality you don’t care about a little heartbreak, about a little pain, as long as you get a couple of carefree moments out of it. But you don’t call and you don’t text and you never say the things that feel like lead on your tongue because you remember me letting you leave, me allowing you to walk away without so much as a backwards glance. Thinking I was too much of a coward to fight when in reality I just couldn’t stand to watch you go.

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