The Aesthetic is Gone

It was the most beautiful, bitter fruit. Though each bite was laced with poison, I could not help but eat for the hope that I also discover the sweetness. Your presence was fascinating. Your mind thrilled me. It was different. I wanted to bask in your genius and touch your daring thoughts. It felt safe to give you pieces of my soul and my heart. Your music and your story made me hunger to understand you. If only I could grasp your essence, I would know why you seemed so different. You told me you wanted an adventure. I wanted to follow you to the ends of the earth. Take me. But another holds my heart more than you did. More than you do. You resented my weakness. “I’m tired of people living in ruts”, you told me Well I hate being in one, but you are not the way out. So I mourn our friendship. And the beginning of something that was not meant to be. Every look, every touch, every word is confusing. But the words you don’t say kill me slowly. I’m sick of your games. Nice to see you, for I am losing you perpetually. Nice to hate you and love you again. And though I pretend it’s not so, I want to kneel at your feet and weep bitter tears. Offer all of myself to get back the small pieces of you that you gave me. I am a fool for thinking you were different. You said that you cared about us. About me. But those were pretty, empty words thrown at me by a child to whom I was just a piece of cake you couldn’t have to satisfy your hunger. So much of my agony is tied up with craving and loss. You taught me the perfection of a moment and the fleeting nature of it. Of all that was lost, I’ll miss glimpsing your soul. You weren’t who I thought you were. Who I wanted you to be. Everything that was beautiful about us rotted of errors and falling.