Nothing About Us Was Meant To Last

Nothing about us was meant to last. We screamed fleeting and transitory arm in arm down busy streets. Impermanence stuck to us like words on chalk boards. We were always going to fade away.

I just wish it wasn’t you that ruined us.

You found it so easy to wipe the slate clean and I’m still holding on to the little that is left. But my fingers are slipping, photographs are fading, and I’m placing boxes of us in storage as my memories begin to feel like a stranger’s. It seems like even I can’t outrun our temporariness. No matter how hard I try to rewrite the past. Perhaps there’s always been an expiration date on us, counting down like a ticking time bomb. And maybe it went off a long time ago and I’m just trying to find you in the wreckage because, even after hurting each other the way we did, I miss you and a part of me always will. And, that doesn’t make me weak or a masochist.

We were just good for each other and bad for each other, both at the same time.