The reason why you felt so loved around her
is because she wanted to feel it to but you
were to selfish to see other than your own needs.
It doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
Sometimes the memories float through my
mind and make me shiver but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while. Sometimes
I miss you before closing my sleepy eyes and
I feel like I can feel your touch but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
Years and years ago people waited for the
pain to go away, for the heart to heal and then
they were alright, but now it’s hard to clean one’s
life from a former lover’s presence. You are
virtually reminding me that you’re not mine but it
doesn’t hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
To hell with pain, I can deal with that but I
can’t deal with not being able to escape your
eyes and move on with my life. You are always looking
at me from pictures, reminding me of what we
had and even thought it doesn’t hurt anymore,
and it hasn’t in a while, I’m still sitting here waiting
for your presence to go offline.
I’m waiting for your name to stop being on the top
of my messenger contacts. I’m waiting for my hand
to stop clicking your name wanting to write something.
I’m waiting for Instagram stories to stop telling me
where you are. I’m waiting for the day I’ll stop opening
them. I’m waiting for our pictures to disappear from
my gallery. I’m waiting for a day I’ll be strong enough
to delete them like you deleted me.
But it doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
I see you hiding in the shadows
of what they told you that you should be.
I can feel your heart break every time
they bend your will.
Step into the light, there’s nothing to hide.
The world always judged those
carrying change in their heart.
The road is dark, the steps are heavy.
With each breath you gain more understanding
for his actions, for his addictions.
You look in the mirror and the reflection smiles
saying that you look just like your father.
Every lunatic needs his doomed heir.
My relationships aren’t love stories.
They are twisted fairytales I wrote.
The happy ending is nowhere in sight.
I keep biting the poisonous apple because
I’ve romanticized the villain.
You know it’s not just a habit.
You know it’s not just “We decided to stay friends”
It’s the flame that never went out and
it’s burning through your veins,
pulling you back to hell
as you fall into his arms again.
But you love the heat, don’t you?