I loved you past the point of sense,
past the exit signs,
past myself.
Nothing ended clean.
Nothing stayed.
When I’m 6 feet under and the bugs are eating my heart,
all they’ll taste is you.
No heaven.
No closure.
Just proof that some loves
outlive mercy.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 12:24 AM UTC
I loved you past the point of sense,
past the exit signs,
past myself.
Nothing ended clean.
Nothing stayed.
When I’m 6 feet under and the bugs are eating my heart,
all they’ll taste is you.
No heaven.
No closure.
Just proof that some loves
outlive mercy.
