Incomplete stories used to be my favourite,
I used to love being able to make-up the end.
Give the characters a happy ever-after,
The kind people only dream about.
That's why I started in the first place,
To gain control of a fictional life,
Because mine was all over the place.
It was one of our favourite debates,
Between you and I.
Where you, the ever free spirit didn't understand control,
And lived each day unexpectedly,
While I, the ever controlled being didn't understand the unexpected,
And lived with stability.
But we were the reason I lost my faith in incomplete stories.
I kept hoping you'd come back and we'd sort things out,
Looking at it now though,
We were meant to be over from the start,
And be left with broken and bleeding hearts,
Because you were a whirlwind and I was a tornado,
Destroying everything in our path from the get go.