The (Un)Loaded Gun
It's harder when I know you are reading what I write, searching for meaning between the lines that doesn't exist. Hoping I will write something allowing you to forgive me. Hoping I will write about him so you can finally know you were right. Hoping I will write something that will justify your newfound hatred of my blue eyes that used to provide you sanctuary. Hoping I will write about us so it will validate your love.
But instead I am writing this, now, and I need you to let go.
My days of providing your ammo are over.