Maybe dreaming of being somewhere else will get us there,
When those around us are incapable of feeling anything tangible.
Loving with heartbeats.
We wade through pools of doubt,
Seeking the lost that cannot be found.
Who decided unrequited longing was so romantic?
There is no romance in abandon,
Still here I am,
Neglected,
Romanticizing.
Drag your finger down the lines you drew,
Seek meaning where there is none to be sought.
Keep trying to sing lullabies to non-existent people,
Under the bed,
In the closet,
In your mind
You keep moving,
Not quite knowing if the wounds are superficial or extend deep in your being,
Either way,
Bleeding out is the least romantic way to go.
So patch up your wounds with band aids,
You don’t need to watch the blood flow in romanticism of what never was.
Please, never tell me what you really felt.
I’ve been set free from your prison,
I’ve been erased from your list,
Leave me neglected,
Because that’s how I’ve left you.