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How many times am I going to see those

words before they stop being meaningful

and sharp with the sharpness

(invisible/intangible)

only pain can have.

Pain is such an innocent knife.

It looks so harmless you'd never believe

it can cut so deeply into your skin and bones.

How is it possible that I can still run?

How can my shattered bones still carry

me around, without protesting, with the

soundless obedience that characterizes

everything in me? How the fucking fuck

is it possible that I still define myself in

terms of your imaginary position on

Earth?

Being together

I wouldn't say you are my everything
not now.
That isn't bad, though.
Before you were everything,
even the air you were.
But now you are not.

It's about maturity
You are not (my) everything
yet you are the most important thing in here.
You could leave, and I wouldn't be broken to pieces
(broken yes, but not to pieces)

That's the thing about grown-up love
or mature love
we do not depend on each other anymore.
We are a complement and not a must, and that's the difference.

We are here because we choose to be,
not because we cannot breathe without this.

It makes a (huge) difference.

Don't you think?