Untitled
I did long term
stupid things for temporary happiness,
Started a life-long
war, for 5 minutes of peace,
Cut off my
leg because I got a bruise on my foot,
Cut off my
hair because I was too lazy to brush it,
Spent the night with you, in you, around you,
even though
I should have just endured the company of loneliness and melancholia.
Instead I had
a good time with bad memories.
You left in
the morning, I was already gone by midnight.
I washed
your smell out of my sheets and my hair,
but I
couldn’t get rid of what you put inside me.
It’s over
for you, but it’ll never be over for me,
you got
over me, on top of me, but I’ll get never over it.
My eyes are
wet and my wounds are fresh, like dewdrops on flower petals,
My hands
sore from holding on to yours, they’re slippery,
like your
tongue when we kissed,
first in my
mouth, between my lips, and out again,
behind your
teeth and walls of silence, never to be seen again,
out of my
sight, now you’re just in my mind all the time again,
lost hands,
lost touch, just lost and never found again.
I’m lost for words, out of metaphors, but I have to write, keep typing, get it
out,
form the memories into syllables,
form the memories into syllables,
sounds of sickening screams into the safeness of
soft similies,
I’d write a book about everything you ever said to me,
just to throw it into the cold flames of anger
that lighten up my dark nights and watch it burn to ashes like a dysfunctional phoenix.
What you did to me will always be worth a story,
always in the need to be told, will never get old -
But I need to decide which genre I choose.
I’d write a book about everything you ever said to me,
just to throw it into the cold flames of anger
that lighten up my dark nights and watch it burn to ashes like a dysfunctional phoenix.
What you did to me will always be worth a story,
always in the need to be told, will never get old -
But I need to decide which genre I choose.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments
(
Atom
)
No comments :
Post a Comment