When I lay at night I think of you,
I find parts of myself missing.
How very cliché.
Yet is it my fault?
Is it my fault I cannot control the muffled musings of a
subconscious I have tried so hard to suppress?
Is it a fruitless task to explore the what if's,
the why's, the could have's?
Is it wrong to hold on?
When I lay at night I think of you,
I find parts of myself missing.
You were always the puzzle that I was more
than happy to help complete.
Even if that meant giving up parts of me.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
When I lay at night I think of you,
I find parts of myself missing.
How very cliché.
Yet is it my fault?
Is it my fault I cannot control the muffled musings of a
subconscious I have tried so hard to suppress?
Is it a fruitless task to explore the what if's,
the why's, the could have's?
Is it wrong to hold on?
When I lay at night I think of you,
I find parts of myself missing.
You were always the puzzle that I was more
than happy to help complete.
Even if that meant giving up parts of me.
