The pain is withered away with words
that don't mean a thing to the outsiders
the smell of you still lingers on my shirt
the tears are few but you were my first
and maybe still the last to see my cry
because i'm feeling incomplete to feel again
Is it the stars that shine so bright
but still don't match your eyes enough?
or it the way
you left me alone in dark
and I still won't ask why
Is it my passion
or mere obsession
I ask myself everyday
this question
but I fail yet every time to know
what it is to let go
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
The pain is withered away with words
that don't mean a thing to the outsiders
the smell of you still lingers on my shirt
the tears are few but you were my first
and maybe still the last to see my cry
because i'm feeling incomplete to feel again
Is it the stars that shine so bright
but still don't match your eyes enough?
or it the way
you left me alone in dark
and I still won't ask why
Is it my passion
or mere obsession
I ask myself everyday
this question
but I fail yet every time to know
what it is to let go