Getting Used To Disappointment

This time I'm giving up on you. It's what I'll keep telling myself. The
hourglass has dropped its final grain, I can't complain. I should've
expected more from you. Though I expected more, those big green eyes just
dropped me to the floor. We flickered long ago, now just smoldering ash.
The wind will take it away. In our lungs, through our sorry souls. I
should be there by your side. I've tried. Your affections change with the
wind's directions. I have a confession. I would love to know why you give
me this second hand sympathy, what more do you want from me? Don't leave me
with this. Again.