Gone

It's gone.
It's gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone.

Gone.

I don't know what to do now
That I don't feel... anything.
It's like the world stopped spinning,
But I know that it's all right now--everything.

Still.

It's gone, it's gone, it's gone.

It's just not there.
And I don't know what I'm supposed to feel.
Because, aren't I supposed to still have that with me?
It's like... now, nothing is real.

But it's gone, it's gone. It's gone!

...

"What's gone?" you ask, giving into curiousity.
I'll smile and laugh and casually take a sip of my coffee.
"Love," I say. "Love is just... gone. Forever.
And now I can be free."

"But why would you be happy?" you ask,
"That love decided to... leave? And to never return, ever?
Didn't you tell me that it was precious?
A gift to stand apart forever?"

"You don't understand what it was like," I whisper.
"You don't know how hard it was, every second of the day,
Wondering if my love would ever be returned,
Wondering if... I was even capable of being loved," I say.

"You make it sound so terrible," you scoff.
"If love is so disagreeable, then why did you stay in it for so long?"
I stare at you for a minute, sighing,
And I wonder what went wrong.

"You don't... understand," I try to amend, and I'm grateful you're still listening.
"This love was forced on me, and that's the truth of the matter.
I found a person who had everything I could ever want,
And realized over time that I had nothing to give, and my heart just... shattered."

"I don't quite understand, you're right," you say with a frown.
"But I do know this," you start.
"That no one is ever happy with being unloved,
And no one should be lonely for so long."

"That's not true," I say, and I know I'm positively beaming.
"Because... I can stay unloved, just as I can stay unloving!"
You tilt your head to the side, scrunch up your brow in confusion,
So I try to explain, but you let me say nothing.

"Why would you want to be unloved or unloving?" you demand,
But you don't give me time to speak.
"No, no, don't object. I know what I'm saying here.
You'll be lonely in that life, just think!"

"But how is that different from being lonely now?" I ask,
Frowning at you as I try to mend the situation.
"I was lonely before, with my heart stolen from me.
I've just now retrieved it, you see!" And I can't hide my elation.

"What you just said makes absolutely no sense," you retort,
Sipping your coffee delicately.
I just give you a heartfelt smile,
But it isn't returned, and I continue reluctantly.

"You still don't understand, huh?" I ask, sighing.
"It goes like this, and don't interrupt me until I finish, okay?
My heart was stolen by my perfect someone,
But that perfect someone didn't love me, I was just in their way.

I'm convinced that they are still my perfect someone,
My match, my partner, my best shot at happiness,
But the point remains that they do not love me.
So who am I to force love, affection, or any of that... sappiness?

So, yes. I'll be lonely without love,
But no more lonely than I was before,
Pining after someone whose affections didn't match mine.
And now I'm free! Don't pity me, celebrate for what I don't feel anymore!"

You just stare at me as I finish my rant.
No words leave your lips, but I'm sure you understand.
Still, after a few minutes, you manage a single sentence:
"...And you'll be happy, then, without love, or... anything so grand?"

I smile at you, cheerful as I ever was.
"I think I will be, yes. I've never been the lonely type anyways,
So this will hardly be a challenge, because, as of now,
I'm just... me, me in every way!

Non-lusting, non-loving...
Asexually, aromantically...
Not interested, not biased,
Incapable of love or being loved, me!"

And you just smile at me, but I can see the sadness behind.
"No," you object, so quietly it's hard to hear.
"You are not incapable of being loved, because...
I love you. And therefore that does make you loved, dear."

And it's my turn to be shocked,
Because... wouldn't you know?
You were the reason I gave up love, because I spent so much on you.
But because every story has a tragedy at some point, here I go:

"Then I'm sorry, love. I really am, it's true...
But over the years, I've used up all my love for you."