All these years I've lived in the remnants of you.

I'm not despondent, but you've never gave me an impartial closure.

All the censures I had to carry because you cared more about how others would view you.

And you've only remembered my failings and never yours.

How I've bewailed for all these years.

How I've blamed myself all these while.

Only coming to realize that you yearned for me to conform to your standards.

If only I was your goddess, would I be the temple of your love.

But such flawed aspirations never mean to succeed.

You simply cannot accept me for who I am.

And there is no need for me to accept you for who you are and to conform to your standards because you were in love with an image of me.

Our paths are often parallel but it doesn't ever cross.

I wished you've never batter my heart in such a manner.

I wished the tale of you can be can be erased like a chalkboard.

Quench this anguish.