Cry, because every single time feels like a rejection.
Cry, because there's nothing good that comes out of a one-sided goodbye.
Because you know that from now on, you decide that he is not worth looking for anymore.
And it's never easy, because even if nothing has ever happened, everything always felt like a hopeful kindle. But now you decide that the firewood is drenched. It is unusable. It is worthless to hope for warmth from.
It's cold again. Like it has always been. The mirage of my desert is gone.