i drowned myself in sorrow just to talk to you
but you were quiet.
anything hurts less than the quiet.
"write something about me," you said.
"i can't. i can only write when I'm sad," i explained.
"that's sad," you said,
"you won't be able to write for the rest of your life now that I'm here."
oh, only if you knew i wrote a lot about you, i could make a book.
didn't know you were fluent in lies.
these silhouettes strolled across, through the creaking bridge,
walked on it as if they didn't notice the noise,
stepped on it like they knew which path to take next,
but one thing they knew was that they had to cross over
without knowing it would break and took them down
and fed them to the raging waves below.
i dropped your picture in between thorny vines
with not enough space for my hand to pick it up,
yet still i tried to pick you out of there
a million times.
I've been trying to erase you from my mind,
But I'm scared now that I almost accomplish my goal.
I miss seeing your face and hearing your voice.
Maybe you were right
That I was naive for thinking that
I could go days, weeks, months, years
Without your heavenly fingers
Dancing on the side of me I can't see.
i need you to always run your fingers on my body because i want to feel like i'm in heaven once.
Said you loved the moon,
But you always hid
Behind the walls you built
When the dark crept around.
So, how did you dote upon
The moon that shone for you
From inside the fort that you built?
"You are my moon
Which keeps me company
When I am alone
With my thoughts at night."
I remember your eyes lighted up when you said that.
I remember the feeling I felt the night you said that.
And I also remember
The days you turned into a cocoon.
The nights where I only focused
My lights for you; to keep you warm.
So you wouldn't feel no harm.
Then you came out of the shell that kept you hostage.
Right away, as you were free, you asked about your age.
I whispered that you weren't as old as you thought you were.
You sighed in blue, changed your color, and stopped your prayer.
But I am still the moon
Floating with my tune.
So don't reach me with your balloon,
Just stay there in your dune.
the thing about scars is that they will heal
if you stop scratching them.