The Rockies

I was looking to be inspired.

Instead I think only of you, of what you're missing here, that this should have been our vacation. The mountains are beautiful, but I feel I can't appreciate them fully without you to do so with me. And strangers, all of them, who I will keep my distance from until this adventure is over. Except you will still be on my mind.
Its rainy and cool here, a far cry from the stifling heat far below. Your kind of weather. Perhaps you'd be inspired, perhaps a place like this could get you to write again.
But not me. No, you are the thing that causes ink to be spilled, though strangely I can't find those words when we're together.
Its not really so painful anymore, as if I'm becoming immune. My tears are dry anyway, but this rain could certainly hide them.
Its too cold. I would love nothing more than to feel your arms around me as we watch the rain fall on this range.
But I will watch it myself, cold and uninspired, just shy of enjoying myself.

Probably not.

I feel like we've spent the last 4 years looking into opposite sides of a mirror; when we thought we saw each other, we were often only seeing ourselves.
Despite the fact that I'm saddened by this, it no less feels an inevitable part of being together. I want for you to understand yourself, to see yourself for what you are, what you're not, and the potential for what could be.
You've always loved the potential you saw in me, haven't you? But lover, your potential has always been two taps shy of recognized, and you need only to see that it is you holding yourself back.

What a mess I've gotten myself into.

Not for the first time...

I'm still in love with you.

Yet whenever I think of you, all I can think of is blame. How you blame me, for what you are, for what you're not. But those things aren't a product of circumstance, I was not the catalyst. You have allowed me to be that crutch, to make all the pain my fault, and only when I'm not around do you decide you can breath again, as if I were dead weight off your chest.
But I can't make you better, no matter how hard I try. And believe me, I've tried. From giving you my utmost to leaving you be. Neither of those seemed to satisfy you, nor did any of the variants in between.
Its strange to me that the person who taught me that only I could fix myself and no one else could would refuse to acknowledge that truism.

I'm holding out hope that such an epiphany will one day occur to you.
That maybe someday soon you'll see that I'm not such a villain after all.
That all I wanted was to return tenfold the love you have given me.

MIA

I knew this would happen.

Loving someone that much only makes it harder.