goodbyes come and go

you slid into and out of my life, so perfectly, it was almost an art. and I pawed at you, like you were a thing of the present, that you weren't already gone, or that maybe it could be the same, but it's never like that. Believe me, I am not devoid of sentiment, I am not completely full of pain, my life is not empty, but life is full of pain, you can't give yourself to something knowing all it has to offer you is pain, their pain is all they have, and it's all they can give. When you realize that everything means all of you, and only you, it's really different, you're really different. Simply you can't give love, if you never had it to begin with, but you do, you always do. It's always with you, but if you never look, you'll never find it. If you try and give it, out of thin air, it's completely that, so vacuous. It's like you made it up, it's just a story, and stories are barely real, and all have unanswered ending. If you want a story, you'll receive a brief moment in time, that's all you get. You never let it be. It starts with you, and you never just let it go, let yourself go, and you were hiding behind pretty words, and it made me hurt.