There's a frustration seeping through my skin,

lighting my best nights up in a painful, pretty fire,

I hope you enjoy the view.

To be honest,

I never spared a thought for you,

looking down from glass ceiling,

you were caged by emotional limitations,

you had placed on yourself long ago,

and never let go,

of,

and it was too late even back then;

hasn't it bee a decade yet?

It feels like a century,

and that's the best thing i could say about you,

we're sharing a thought,

doomed to expire after this poem ends,

so savour it;

maybe it hit,

I was never your saviour,

and couldn't be,

but we tried,

and that's more than we could say,

about most people.

At least remember that,

if you share any memory at all,

there was never grace before the fall,

that's only for the movies, books,

and other relationships without you.

 

Sleep well,

and far away from me.