he feels like a dark russian film
his emotions are directed guns
only when he likes to shut me away for two days and a half
he leaves me with a memory of him
like a forked road
first road
is my way to a good old friend i no longer know about
second road
my way through forgetting
a bizarre dream i've had years ago
in between, I found the love
that tore down my innocence
for it wasn't the love
that gave you butterflies
only golden beetles and cockroaches
you would have no chance to cringe
and I couldn't bring myself to hate him
his love was unconditional
or there was no love at all