I can't listen to the ******* cure ever again with out feeling empty. Way to go robert smith, you big ******* depressing *******.
Ever since you told me lovesong was yours and fuckfaces song I can't listen to some of my favorite cure songs without thinking of....them. Them being you and him, not us. Us being you and me.
I can't listen to cat stevens because harold and maude was our movie. Ours! Now, the last love song makes me cry like a *****.
I can't listen to ******* inxs anymore. Never tear us apart drops me to my knees. I can't listen to the kinks or edith piaf or talking heads or leonard ******* cohen or great lake swimmers or fever ray or peter sarstedt or portishead or killswitch engage or paul mccartney singing maybe I'm amazed or pearl jam or ween, especially ween, one of my favorites, *****.
Gotye is a prophet.
If I even think of antony and the johnsons, my chest seems to cave in on itself and I am filled with such a deep despair, a longing for something, anything to take away the pain of knowing I lost you.
I can't listen to so much good music out there because that was our thing. So many times we would lie in bed after loving each other and listen to mixes we had made for one another. Those were my favorite times. Sipping whiskey with lime juice, Reveling in your smells, your juices covering me. Your dog farting so bad all we could do was laugh or we would puke.
The first few notes of alexi murdochs love you more, bring forth tears like niagra. I cannot listen to that song without crying immediately.
I don't understand how feelings like that go away so suddenly.
It's *******.
This isn't a poem.
Poems are supposed to be beautiful and about love or beautiful and about loss of love or just plain ******* beautiful about something like a ******* tree or a nice view or flowers.
I have to write about how I hate the empty ******* space in my chest whenever I think of your name. I have to write about the thousandth time I cried over you, like now. I have to write about how the bright blue of our love was replaced by the ***** brown of our lies and deceit.
Nobody gives a **** about that stuff. I can't write a ******* poem to save my life. I want to put down on paper the weariness and exhaustion. I want to express how I feel so that maybe I can save someone else the pain of suffering alone. I want to write you the most beautiful poem on the earth, the one that makes you understand just how much I care for you and how much and I love you and I want you to read it and forget about your fears and past hurts and realize I am the only man for you and nobody else will ever come between us ever again.
But I can't.
I am not smart enough. I am not creative enough. I am not...enough, for you.
I don't want to even try anymore. I want to forget you like I said I never would. I want to love another like I said I never would. I want to be a liar, like I said I never would. I want to stop loving you, like I said I never would.