You were my best mistake.
I would never talk bad about you.
You were my purest, biggest love.
Even if we were never meant to be.

So you come and casually tell me that you might leave,
that foreign places are waiting for you far away from me.
But you go mad because I ecourage you to go,
you say I don't love you enough.
But who am I to stop you?
Who am I to crash your dreams?
I fell in love with you while you were free,
because you fly wild and high,
I wouldn't dare to keep you in a cage,
I wouldn't dare to cloud your happiness with mine.
And you still ask if I love you?

It´s not romantic to think of you while drinking beer,
and it´s not romantic to do so with the music they play on night clubs.
But I can´t think of something more romantic than remembering us dancing while the night slipped away and that this beer tastes just like the cold touch of your lips, and how it made the crowd around us disappear.

Is this what it's like to be a poet?
To taste every goodbye, to feel every moment?
To feel every detail, to see every flaw?
To kiss every star as the night starts to fall
To fall in love with the way the sunsets
To dream of the birds from dusk to dawn

Is this what it's like to be a painter?
To find it captivating the way the earth moves
Mesmerized by your very own torment
Never caring if anyone else approves
Ingenious, stamped across your forehead

Is this what it's like to be an artist?
To find beauty in the pain that transcends
From the demonized garden growing within?
To find something alluring in the way
*People walk away

I lived (unconsciously) to die.
Reckless behavior, bending the rules.
I wanted to **** the butterflies he had given me,
drown them in ***** and whisky.
I tried riding in cars with unknown boys to fill the deep void.
I lost count of the beds I  woke up in,
I lost count of the nights I cried myself to sleep
I hated the loneliness in the morning after having someone next to me.

Live fast and die young.
Excess was not enough.
I wanted everything faster, higher, stronger.
More music, more "friends", more shots, more kisses
More....
               More...
                             More..
I didn´t realize I was slipping through my own hands.
Less time,  less life, less love, less of me.
Less...
           Less...
                      Less...
I kept pushing the buttons of whatever god that was keeping me safe
and I let my demons become the owners of who I usted to be.

I thought I was living the life,
but I was already dead inside.