where should we begin if not where it ends? is it slowly sinking in or is it my descent? i can’t feel much of anything not even your contempt. this is for the best. breathing backwards can't wash the words away. breathing backwards won’t make your amends. it just breaks you til you bend. i could tell the time of day by the fading of your eyes. you could trust i’d miss the mark every single time. there is comfort found in rage and solace in regret. this is for the best. breathing backwards, such an actor. scratching out your pity novel. watch me grovel. this sinking awful feeling cannot stop me leaving.
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