It feels like
the middle of the day and yet
you are
tired
It feels like a river that does not flow

I’m angry with the people who diseased my brain
I’m angry with myself for being weaker than the pain

I didn't want you,
I wanted love
and I have realised
that they are not the same thing.

You were a mould
that I poured my insecurities in,
a computer I tried to program.

But you are a sky,
stormy and clear and rainy and warm.

You were so blue when I longed for red.

I didn't want you.
I wanted the thought.

If everything is going well
then something must be wrong