You push away and could never say, the joy has decayed. Past making change. You knew the way of what became of the infatuation. It’s bleak. Without infatuation I’m weak. Remind myself yet again that I said so. I’ve learnt before. Love ends in apathy. Don’t look back. You’ll fall down. Familiar chasms await you. Look at me, look at you. Look what became of us. Indifference. Fuck. Now I shall feed amongst the crows. Your sticks and stones have cut my bones.