So you said you couldn’t give me what I wanted because you’ve had quite a tough past and it still stings like a fresh wound. But who are you to know what I wanted when I never mentioned it at all? I don’t think I would even know what I wanted even if it was laid out for me in a manner of multiple choice. I’m the type to rely on the toss of the coin, believe in the signs and the idea that everything has rhyme and reason. But that’s not who you are. You are the 50 shades. You are a hot pot of the emotions I’ve long been trying to avoid. You are a mess, but you don’t admit it. You hold me, touch my hand, and keep just enough distance to make me feel that you’re both there and not there at the same time. Do you think I don’t know that you don’t look into my eyes? Do you think I don’t feel your empty words? And while compliments go far, do you think I don’t notice the backhanded ones? You think that I will always be here, within your reach, available at anytime but I’m done being that person.
Drop your baggage, I’m done being the meantime girl.