and she said don't Ever talk to me again

The last time I remember being happy with you was after the buzz had worn off, and I was gathering up my clothes from the floor. The cool spring air blew the clouds over the moon, the only witness to our existence together, and I thought to myself how gloriously beautiful the dirty city looked from your window. It sparkled like a dumpster of broken glass. You always wanted so badly to leave it behind. Month after month of teasing and quick tastes of what it felt like to wrap ourselves up in each other, without realizing how hard we were pushing against everything we had worked towards, ended that night. After walking away from you for the final time in our convoluted emotional mess of a relationship, the happiness crashed to the floor, the same as your lamp had done only moments before. I don't remember what we talked about that night, or what beautiful things you filled my ears up with, but I do remember walking away. I will always remember walking away.