My comforts, an illusion;
a man crafted in the mind,
to soften the blow of reality.
His touch, warm and delicate,
fake and fleeting,
leaving my heart twisted sour.
An intimacy, imagined,
hands merged with the air,
a hot fever overwhelming.
I cannot break free,
from this manmade delusion,
as too much of me relies on him.
Sanity shatters under my breath,
without his sweet embrace,
a broken mind created man in an empty space.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
My comforts, an illusion;
a man crafted in the mind,
to soften the blow of reality.
His touch, warm and delicate,
fake and fleeting,
leaving my heart twisted sour.
An intimacy, imagined,
hands merged with the air,
a hot fever overwhelming.
I cannot break free,
from this manmade delusion,
as too much of me relies on him.
Sanity shatters under my breath,
without his sweet embrace,
a broken mind created man in an empty space.
