Oh, what a risky thing it is to allow yourself to feel.
It’s that thin line between heaven and hell.
The moment you fall or fly.
The second in which you live or die.
With us it’s never really over, there’s always this bond.
There was never closure, so many things left unsaid
but we know if we meet again the history would
repeat itself. 4 walls, one bed, you and I and all of
those things would still be unsaid.
Can’t you see what you’ve made me do?
You became a part of me, you became the half of me.
Now that you’re gone I am trying to replace you
with liquids which make my head dizzy
and smoke which I twirl in my fingers
as if it was your curly hair.
You were poison which felt so good
and I am trying to replace you with
substances that don’t come close to you.
I get angry with myself every time I write
down a poem because I just see so much
of you in my work. You are in every verse,
in every thought. I don’t know how to
purge you out of my system. The tears
and the screams and the words and
the denial aren’t working anymore.
If this is what love does, I don’t know if
I want to feel it ever again.
You never knew my worth and I realized
yours too late in this little game.
I guess timing really is everything when
you put your heart at stake.
It gets so cold
when loneliness enters the scene
but the feeling is actually burning.
Burning with the desire to break free.
Burning with the desire to sleep in peace.
Burning when you remember things
the way they used to be.
Burning when you see the shadow of
the empty place that once had a heartbeat.
Kill it before it kills you.
Drown it before it drowns you.
Run away from it before you find yourself
wandering in the dark all over again.