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 Apr 2014 Jasmine Leilani
WCA
I wrote this for you a long time ago on a coffee stained napkin, after you left me, full of love, lingering in a cafe.

"For you, in all your follies and faults and the way they make you so perfect for me.
For you, in the moments that linger in the vehemently insignificant corners and corridors of things, as if drifted of their own grandure.
For you, for the words that spill to the floor and the brilliant way you understand the deafening silence that follows.
For you, for your supernovas and clever shades, for your daylight smiles and nighttime skins.
For you, for your familiarity and the impossible truths that stand as martyrs to say that I have loved you before.
For you, despite the treachery and quiet sinister fun of the world.
For you, for making me so terribly scared of dying."
Yet here I am, in your wake, so full of so many thoughts and demons. Know that I have died, that I have loved and lost with equal measure.
Loving you must be a crime,
cause i'm stuck in this prison biding time,
waiting for a visit,
a call,
a postcard,
something,
anything to show that I don't mean nothing.
Do you even care at at all?
Pain
Written by Adam M. Snow

I know what pain is,
the feeling of being alone.
Screaming,
knowing you cant be heard.
The desire to break free
is irrelevant.
You are lost.
A ghost,
trapped.

— The End —