can you turn dust into honey?
can you turn a vision into a memory?
can you turn a badly worded poem into a coping mechanism?
can you keep living like this?
this makes no sense but when does anything i write?
you were the sun
and i was the moon
always dancing around each other
within arms reach
but only for seconds
this is about you
i wouldn't have taken so many pills
one after another
and then just one more
i wouldn't have swallowed my sadness
i wouldn't have had to feel the burn in my throat as i threw up
i wouldn't have to carry this secret around that i tried to **** myself last spring
i just wouldn't
it would all be so different
Oscar Wilde once said something about death that i can no longer remember, but I know it was beautiful.
it had something to do with how there’s no more today or tomorrow.
how time becomes irrelevant
there is no more past
there is no more future
it’s just you
and the soft spring breeze
late afternoons are spent with you
singing all our favorite songs
dancing in the living room
just wasting away with you,
would you rather be dead or haunted by all your past mistakes?
would you rather be dead or haunted by lost loves?
would you rather be dead or haunted by a future you’ll never have?
*would you rather be dead or haunted?
your favorite song plays softly in the background
reminding us that this is real
that we are both here
and we are still in *love
how do i tell you i miss you