my feelings are a mountain
i have yet to tackle
detached of my body
way ahead of me
in a sense it may have manifested its way of life
now it is a head, with a heartbeat
i’ll let it grow a hand of its own
perhaps two, even
limb after another
& who am i but a shell?
i search for words,
songs in its utmost lyrical sense
to speak on my behalf
louder, i demand
for i forgot
we have yet
love is too wide to set a concrete definition upon
miss me like the chances you’ll never take
for you’re too unprepared to brace yourself for the damage
behind closed doors isn’t a forever place you’d settle in to destine your fate
this one’s for the wanderers
feel better soon, heart.
i hope it aches less but never heals,
save some left for when you’d wonder how pain felt like.
it takes you getting hurt to make you feel alive, from your recall.
perhaps this should’ve stayed in drafts but im just too sad to
if you’re so used to goodbyes, why does it ache different each time?
a genuine question i’d ask myself since it’s always so hard at the beginning but you’ll eventually let go anyways
words, little do they seem to mean
for someone so big that not even one’s heart can bear
i hope in a different life,
you would—at least—be happier,
even if that means trading my only chance
in this life of knowing you exist.