failing to see my mistakes is holding you against my back we are memoirs with curved edges we are hollow when we speak
my reflection is clear and concise with words i dread like the afternoon we forgot how to hold each other we were broken pieces in jars of clay ready to unfold our unkept promises to be broken down again
i have not thought of loving for weeks i run passed my days an endless train of emotionless tattered thoughts
i am ready to be filled again and down goes my desires
i am more than seeking the feeling of having a hand to hold reaching for somebody close, or pass the time with another entity, another soul to play disguise with
i am at the gates and i am holding them open with my cold, bare hands.