(in)Case of the Ex: Last Page

Rainy days spent laying in my bed reminds me of you, and like my pictures things were simple as black & white. Mornings when I wake up with a fully charged cellphone tells me we're not talking, and when we do, it feels as if we have to draw eachother into the conversation so we could talk a half second longer because we both think that neither of us want to be there. But that's exactly where I want to be, in those half seconds of time where I'm looking left and you're looking down and you could feel me looking at you from your, peripherals. We talk nothing of the past and the times when we did this and I did that. "Remember that time we..."
The table for two, turns into a bar stool for 1. I'll eat my words and regurgetate them onto my blanket and sink myself back in them when the scent of you flushes through my nose and whips past my eyes causing them to roll back into a bliss of a dream. A dream it'd stay. Because it was already real. And now they're just memories that make me insecure when I'm around you. I'm now fearful to hurt your feelings, more fearful to be honest because my honesty makes you defensive and all of a sudden I realize that I don't know you, anymore. Because like you, with me, we live in our memories. And what I knew of you isn't you, and my assumptions that derive from the thought of what I know of you turn into insults. And it's an insult that I don't know you. It's an insult that you don't know me. All of a sudden we have to "try". We only hold on when we want to, and the rest of the time we don't give a F___. 
We're both left with no explanations. Just a tear-filled sleeve of my sweater and my silence and your inexplainable manner to take yourself out of those half seconds because you're afraid. Afraid of me. It's a bit sad y'know? But, whatever, right?
So she walks right out of the house just like she always does and I'll say nothing at all the whole ride back to her place. I'll say "Thanks, and say hi to parents for me" and she'll say "thank you, pass my thanks to tito and tita". So she walks right out like she always does. I'll sit back home, look at my phone, turn it off 'cause there ain't nobody calling tonight.
When I wake up, I'll put on my suit, tie, glasses, slick my hair and head to work. All Clark Kent and shit, y'know. I'll come straight home like I always do. Loosen up my tie, place my glasses on the dresser and lay in bed thinking of how I'm suppose to take over the world.
Cause I'm always going to be the bad guy, Cause I can't be her Superman. - God is Love  


Post, inspired by:
"Like I said, 75% of the time, I love being single. But I'm only human, and I have my moments. This is one of them." 
"Because my good guy at one point in his life, was her bad boy. Because when my boys are telling me, "Fuck him, he couldn't handle you, you deserve better," and all that woompty-woomp that may be true but I really ain't tryna hear - they are also talking about themselves. Because everybody makes mistakes. Because even our "boys" are assholes ... just not towards us." - This killuh of a blog...CLICK.