This time will be different. This time I’m going as a prisoner of a heart I nolonger own, but still claim to have. This time I go as a disbeliever of the love I never received, perhaps not deserved, but always felt.

This time I’m lost, drained and drowning.
This time I’m broken, empty and scarred.
This time I’m hurt and betrayed, abandoned and left to die.
Left without goodbye.

This time I’m not turning back, nor want I to be turned back for. This time I won’t care, nor want I to be cared for. This time it’s over. And all times to come, I will refuse, to go over it again.