I’ve chewed this gum to tastelessness
For I fail to find the words to describe
How wilting day-old roses make me feel
As I cringe to the sound of cuddling nearby
Among other intimacies…
I attempt to make it a testament to my strength
And regard those sounds as mindless background noise,
Not worth my time.
But if I give in to such thoughts,
Is that not already a sign of weakness?
And what now that I’ve accepted it?
Things won’t change.
I’ll have to keep pretending
That needles don’t hurt when they ***** my heart
In the same way he deals me piercing stares
And lulls me into daydreams with his voice.
It’s senseless of me to continue
I’m simply digging myself into a bigger whole of despair
As my fantasies grow more fantastic.
If only I could say the roses were from him…