so close to what i cannot touch,
the feeling felt within the drunk,
it might as well become the sun,
the unattained that burn with love.
rebelled against that shaky turn,
then crashed into a dying fern.
the kind of love that's meant to hurt,
the growing pains have lost their spurt.

the words stuck in our throat,
like a suicide you cant commit to,
you pushed just as hard,
as the heart you pulled yourself through,
our wings failed the sun,
we found nothing,
but the ground to love.

maybe the rush was enough.

your lack of all emotion,
and a posture well-reserved,
your neck was so extraordinary,
the sweat that laced your curves.
you always made me happy,
made a heaven from the ground,
turned my head into a ferris wheel,
when friends were not around.
in the nights that i will miss you,
i will truly wish you dead.
so i'll slip you from my fingers,
like the dreams i never had.

maybe the harder it gets,
the more you let go,
the less you remember,
the more that you know.

God, i hope.