This Place

The distance grows between us, the years breaking down the foundation of good memories and all I'm left with is the bitter taste of regret on my tongue.

The trust we had is shattered on the floor in tiny shards. It seems no matter how many times I sweep, there are still tiny slivers that come back to cut me...just when I thought I'd finally healed. 

I breathe in but the air is musty with your lies and they choke me still, even after the dust has settled. 

There are things I wish I would've done differently. Maybe painted the shutters yellow instead of blue, or opened the blinds to let in a little sunlight. It's too late now. 

I don't know why I keep visiting this place when it's obviously beyond repair, but I've learned so much and I know with each

tick

tick 

tick 

of the clock, I get a little farther from here.