They call this living
This is not living
Living is somewhere with you
Somewhere far away
From here
With your hand in mine
Our toes in the sand
My head on your chest
The wind pulling through your hair
And the sweet scent of
'I love you'
Whispered over and over
For just us to hear
But this is not living
I am here and you are there
No sweet 'I love you's'
Just static silence
With on occasion
The lonely echo of
'I hate you'
bouncing off the walls
To lull myself asleep
There are no tender embraces
Just our fists
Pounding against nothing
In this barren desert of the past
This is not living
This is hell