Guilty.

I hate the way you scream in my head and how it tugs and tears at the strings and makings of my heart. I sit and watch you cry yourself to sleep and find myself forgetting who I am.

I look away and try to ignore your shaking hands, but my train of thought is set on nothing but making its way toward you. I glare into the water, sitting lake-side, and beg for it to swallow my guilt. It cries with me, and wakes and swells it's disapproval for the realization of the loss of innocence I'd prayed still existed. It tells me there is no hope for naive, air-headed girls who dream of screaming love songs to the night sky, who wish on burnt out stars and half moons. I say "I'm so sorry , but honestly I'm trapped within the never-ending cyclone his 'iloveyou' created inside of me'".

Now, I cry inside that hollow sunset, waiting for the fire to die down. Your promises of 'forever' intimidated me and so I pushed you away. I don't believe in forever, and I get bored much too easily to ever want it. I'm sorry you wouldn't stop your shouting and listen for a moment to what I warned you would happen if you dove into my smile.

But it isn't like I didn't try, right?

I wish you'd leave me with my concrete wishes and streetlamp regrets. But every time I think of the leaves beneath me sighing and fighting with each-other over whose head the idea resided in first, I see your face, not his, and I scream and fight the wind for a chance to breathe.

And I lose.