white waters

you are too many things;
you are stellar and then manic, necessary and then disposable, present and then wandering, and (now) so very clueless. you seemed to know what you were doing at first. you knew so much and i wanted to learn (and i wanted you) and things were easy and fluid and you were a river and i was a paper boat and you took me places and i rode you to banks and oceans and we got by. but now, oh how time has slowed us down, or sped me up, or pushed you away. and i am so very bored, and you don't have a clue. i wish you did, (how i wish you do).

i am a blackhole;
i always need more, and i've needed more for awhile now, but i'm trying not to kill everything i touch. i don't want to destroy or devour or damn. and you are a lot of things and i thought a lot of things, that would be enough. but i have ruined you, you've become lackluster and i've grown bored (so bored, so very bored). and you are not boring, but i've killed it. i'm sorry.

i wish you knew;
that i'm done, that things could be different, but they aren't and i'm done. and i'm sorry.