It's been an honour to break in front of you silently again and again but I've started to think that maybe it's lost it's intended effect-I mean you can only watch someone pick up the broken pieces and promise  it'll never feel hurt again just to crush them in palms that will never hold another's hand and feel them squeeze back without the blood slipping them just out of reach but not really-

a couple of times.
then it just seems desperate.

this is a small mercy.
to sit in darkened rooms,
plugged into a sad song
clutching at concerns midst a haze of distraction

waiting

for You to pierce it.

tear right through the walls
the pillows
the headphones
straight to the skull.

this is a small mercy.
the only one left.
so I wait.

-bitten love;
tasting someone else
just to spit them
out.

It's cold and warm but neither really wants to connect which is understandable really who wants to give 100%
so go back and forwards it's rocking horse hopes and flag posted dreams fluttering in the grey breeze named
"Memory."
it's not forgetting to remember,
it's about remembering to **forget.