You are the unspoken part of me
You are the warning glance to my friends
Your are the conversation I’d rather not have
You are the awkward silence that answers a simple question
And you are the apology they had to say thereafter
You are the damn smile of reassurance
You are the look of sympathy I had to watch
And over again
And over again
You are the tears which I try hard not to show
You are  the falter in my steps
The agonizing oxygen that my lungs had to endure just to keep me alive
I am okay. I’m okay. I am. I am.

You are every memory chased, every pain reminisced, every sad love song written, every cursed word I had to throw at myself for being pathetic in this forsaken place of broken hearts and half-living souls.

Yes. You.

You will always be my greatest tragedy.

Banquo once said to Macbeth:
The instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray’s in deepest consequence.

I should have known you were going to be my destruction the moment you said you love me and will always do. I guess for someone who enjoys Shakespearean tragedies, I am foolishly blind and deaf.