i'm good at it

i'm good at it.
really good.
and then i look at you and i fall to pieces because you shatter me.
and it hurts.
it really hurts.
i keep seeing images of you wherever i go, down the road, through the fields, into the night.
and it reminds me of how common you are.
how, and i know this sounds stupid, everyone has one of you.
but you know what makes you special to me?



the fact that i loved you.
and i probably still do.

but i'll never tell.