To say that you are not capable of hurting a fly are the means that you Are not capable of hurting a living thing; my heart was the living thing That made you smile, made you laugh, the detail that enjoyed your Presence and your company.

May perhaps made you cry, hurt you in plenty of ways.
But there was no sense to it, dear.

I've misplaced all feelings, I see myself absent...

My lungs just will not calm down,
Suffocating on the smoke from our scorching hearts,
Crying out of order the dreams that were occupied by doubt.

We will cry with no end,
In the innermost of our thoughts,
Time spared today that is used to neglect, and left for the past;
But It's hard to exhale,
All this smoke in my lungs.

I move as the waves go,
Taking me as they flow.
But the currents that we chose,
Are the one's that hurt the most…

Miss my words, and the heart that craved your love the most
So I'll let this bother drag us both.

With words as daggers,
Razor-Sharpened feelings,
Cutting the wounds that have no healing.