Feelings.

I bite my nails absent-mindedly and stretch out on the grass as I squint in an attempt to mask my emotions. I undoubtedly fail; he reads right through me. He always does. The man staring back at me is not the man I thought I fell in love with, but a fragment; and he knows it. I know it. He's just a paragraph in my life story. What we thought would never end, inevitably has run it's course. We blame time, situation, and circumstance. Or at least I do. I'm the cold-hearted one; the one who's never satisfied. But there's a reason I always hold on. In hopes that this time will be different? It never is. I never change. Incapable.

We fall into each other's arms and as the pain overcomes me, I'm reminded of my failure. He squeezes my hand because he knows the hardest thing to do will be to walk away, but there's nothing left to remain for. The tears flow freely, my chest feels like it might cave in. Unfinished. It's always unfinished.