What we had was innocent. It was nice. It brought me this fleeting joy. But it didn’t run as deep as this. It wasn’t so magnetic, it didn’t make me stand still. You made me happy, in these fleeting moments, but you didn’t change me. You weren’t my revolution. You didn’t cause me to overthrow myself. Sun, you’re magnificent, but even stars can be swallowed up by black holes, I sure have been, mysterious black holes that sweep you away to another dimension. I’m never gonna be the same, Sun. You shone on me every single day, but you never got close enough to set me on fire.
I never wanted to hurt you. I know how it happened, but I also can’t explain what I was thinking in words that you can comprehend. I never wanted to hurt you, Sun, but what’s done is done.
You were my signature in the painting, you sprouted over it like a weed, the most beautiful weed, but how can I explain to you what it feels like to bask in the presence of the person orchestrating your whole color palette?
Maybe in another world, this never had to happen, but I don’t think I want to be in that world. I don’t have to just live with my choices anymore. I can be happy with them. I can mean it.
I am not in your universe anymore.