Always For You

You know the empty space between what has been and now. The place I talked about so often, where fragments get stranded and pictures never fade away. Some call it memories I think…

The place where you and I are nothing worth anymore. The place where tears dry and crystallise, tearing holes in flushed cheeks, making silver water mix with crimson red, drowning everything but fear. That's where I am lost, and where you're soon going if I let you fall…

I look down at the words scribbled before me… lies, always lies. Whatever I write it turns out like this, hopeless attempts trying to soothe the ache inside, ease the guilt and the pain. I refuse to realise I write in sorrow and of love. Because those emotions aren't real, aren't allowed, aren't me…weren't you. You spitted at love, glared at sorrow, and embraced hate. You took it with you, held it tight, and cried in its arms. You tossed it at me, and I took it, hugged it and cared for it, because it was a tiny bit of you. The smallest bit of cacti blossoms, sandcastles and the dreams I had. But, what are dreams when it comes down to this?

Because there are no more fantasies; my almost picture perfect world has been shattered, by you. Behind hatred there was something else, wasn't there? I saw it glittering behind your half closed eyelids, hiding jade eyes from view. You cared didn't you… bastard, and you never told me so.

I pick up my pen again, staring at the rain stained window before me and silently I wonder, are you crying too?

Who am I to fool, you've already fallen. You're already down. You're lost in the big black emptiness. There's no more air beneath the softness of your wings, feather touches are long gone. They only echo as one of those fragments that hurt so much. Razorsharp pieces of a life left behind. Crumpled, crippled… not able to move. You overwhelm me with those terrible rainbow coloured memories…

I'm ashamed when tears smudge the ink and I stop my writing to wipe away my shame. Who am I to cry, when everyone else suffers so much more, when you suffered so much? I couldn't see your pain, I couldn't take it in. I failed at everything I ever wanted. I'm locked up, chained to the ground, immobilised, and pinned down never to raise myself again.

Angrily I write once more, I write for me, for you, and for everyone that's trapped inside just like me.

…they sting and they hurt a burning sensation inside. An aching need for exploring hands, for shy kisses and small smiles. For little words moaned into the soft flesh of my neck, for waking up beside messy red hair and sleepy eyes. Smudged eyeliner and tiny cover ups, times where hate didn't shine so bright, where betrayal was hidden in layers of sheets. Perhaps sweaty and tangled, but still ours, you and me. Together…

My hand throbs from holding the pen so hard. Your hatred burns inside my veins now, is that what you wanted?

I want to tear the paper apart, rip it to shreds, and erase every word written. The truth, I don't need you. I never needed anyone before so why now, and why you?

Is there any use in turning back time, was there another way? Was I supposed to hold you harder in my arms, whisper the words you refuse to hear? They're so easy, only three at numbers, eight letters all together, doesn't even take a second to say them out loud, yet I didn't even dare to whisper.

You hurt, do you hear that?... it hurts, burns, aches, screams, wants, needs, cries, crawls, begs, hits and tears me apart. Feelings never meant to see daylight, feelings you brought upon me, just by being you. Is that fair, devastating me, for the childish pleasure of you? Or perhaps was it the other way around, did I use you to suffocate myself?

Ghost traces are all that is left of you now, cries into clouds of apathy, agony red and raw as tender wounds, fading bite marks on naked skin, exposed feelings shivering cold…

There's only silence kissing me now. Icy and harsh, brutally raping the parts belonging to you, left by you… but still longing for the sweetest of touches…your touches.

I can't understand how you so simply could reduce me to this pathetic state, crying, sobbing, and throwing things around me like a child. I won't accept, I will not ever. Faith can't be that cruel… It's not fair. All I wanted… you took, you teased and I thought… god damn it, I really thought I meant something!

I was for once more then a tool of trade belonging to the head family. I know they're grinning behind me. Rolling on their backs in fits of laughter because their caged bird finally broke free, amused they saw me get my wings caught off before even trying to fly. The scissors going snap snap, and bam I'm dead. Crash-landing on hardwood floor, choking in the pools of your blood with bitter tears streaming down my face. Holding on to what I thought was my way out, refusing to realise I chose another dead-end highway.

There aren't much left of my wings now, but with the black, trashed pieces that are still there I'll try to fly one last time. For you, because I still believe, there's away out of here… a path out of destructivity. I wish we could walk it hand in hand, but you chose to run ahead and never look back. I hate myself for forgiving you so easily, but I guess deep down inside I knew even back then that you were already long gone…

My writing is fake… what is this path I'm rambling about? I won't fly… damn it, I won't even glide. It's like a weak attempt of poetry, putting together words, trying to create something beautiful of the mess that was us, you and me. What we had wasn't beautiful, not even close to… it was dirty, stained, violent, rocky… but even standing in the middle of the chaos that was ours, I felt safe. And I miss that cuddly warm feeling, I miss it so much. Wrapping my arms around you, hiding from the world in my bed, breathing in your scent… the things lovers do.

But were we really lovers? Or did we use each other to calm the storms that were our lives. I never knew. But there were those times; you snuck your hand into mine and the look in your eyes changed from dead to something else, something so precious to me. The only times I saw you truly happy. Not even in the bliss of love making you were really there; you were always one level higher, always fighting inner demons no one could see. I tried to fight them with you, but you threw rocks at me and built your walls a few inches higher, until no daylight reached your inner realm. The hate you held turned into darkness and ate you from inside.

Lifting the pen again takes more power then what I have left but this is final. The last goodbye, the only thing that isn't a lie. I have to. It won't give me peace, hell it won't help at all. But if I close my eyes, if I let myself fall back on my bed, maybe if I pretend hard enough I will be able to feel you breathing again slowly beside me… and if I shut my eyes even a little tighter maybe just maybe I'll feel your fingers trace butterfly patterns across my skin again… because now at last I write those words you never heard. It's my fault you chose to leave, I never told you the truth. But now I'll write it in my own blood for you, for you… always for Gaara.

…I love you…

Authors note: Re-post with slight changes!