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Sep 2010
Empty, drowning
all alone.
It waits to forget,
if just at home.

Not leaving,
not going, not staying away.
Just letting my demon play.

It rips at me, I **** and fall
down to the sheets again.
Becomes my prison mentally, in this mattress
you once have been.

This bed belongs to you, my love,
this bed belongs to you.

A kick to the head, as good
as dead.
Or just enough to breathe.
My wait is room enough to see the pain you inflicted me.
My weight is why it hurts to breathe, a solution so deceived.

This bed belongs to you, my love,
this bed belongs to you.

Those demons, I know,
I guess they know me, like you once claimed so proud.
The trivial things like tastes and clothes have made me hate the day.
This dreaded thing between my legs is not me anyway.

And like the Moon, I followed you, my Sun: essential me.
Honest to the very marrow, hopefully you'll be,
like my ear, and brain alike, a foolish, selfish deed.
I once lied next to you, my Sun
I once so followed you.

This bed belongs to you, my love,
this bed belongs to you.
785
   Anna
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