I blame me

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

-T.S. Eliot

I loved a girl too hard.  I saw something in her and I grab hold of it and I squeezed it so I couldn’t let go.  So, of course, she ran.  When she ran she looked back but her progress forward never stopped.  I think she looked back because she might have loved too?  Probably not.  I over romanticize every little thing.

When she stopped running she kissed my forehead instead of my lips.  When she sat it wasn’t near me.  When she left it seemed to be because of me and when she didn’t enter it felt like she was waiting for me to go.

I didn’t stop though.  It was my fault.  I squeezed too hard.  I loved too soon.  I drowned her in the waves of my adoration.  She could swim fine but I think her arms and legs began to tire as she was merely looking for a casual lap or two around the pool.  I grabbed her hand and jumped into the ocean.  I can’t blame her for it really.

So I didn’t stop, even after she ran.  She went into the woods and I followed her with a torch.  She hid in a corner and I turned on the lights.  She went to bed early and I was there when her eyes opened the next day.  Too much isn’t enough to describe how much too much really was.  So I blame me.

The rest is a descent into madness.  A trick played that was mentioned casually before but I had never let go.  A game that took itself too far so she wouldn’t know the lips against hers.  As chivalrous as I’d like to think myself I’m really not.  If she hadn’t asked the question I would have absolutely gone as far as she would have let me.

No lies were spilled though.  When asked I gave in.  I gave up.  She ran again, this time covering her tracks so I couldn’t follow.  This time masking herself so I couldn’t see her.  This time squeezing too hard I let her slip through my fingers.  I have nobody to blame but myself.

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