I haven't forgotten about you
Even with all this time apart
I still want the things I said I do
There's still so much love in my heart
I should've move on a while ago
But when I love, I love for good
It's a lot easier said than done you know
I mean I'd let go if I only could
Maybe apart of me doesn't want to
Because I'll lose you for good
There's never been anyone like you
Who can do the things that you could
I don't mean to come off as pathetic
But I refuse to believe this is the end
Has all this obsessing made me lovesick?
I can't bear to just be your friend
the rough texture on his fingers
from putting his soul into his art
his guitar, all black and shiny
a piece of art alone, extra special when he plays it
the warmth of his palm
i trace the lines that cover it
making an 'A' on the center
i clasp my hand, interlacing our fingers
rubbing my thumb against his
i kiss him
nothing makes me happier
than the simple feeling
of his hand
i once dreamt of long classy white lace & flowers in my hair;
now turned into daydreams of sheer black lace & a collar tight against my neck.
i once dreamt of lazy sunny mornings, curled into your chest;
now transitioned into thoughts of ripped fishnets & the sweaters of men i've never met.
i dreamt of children holding our hands as we taught them to walk for the first time;
replaced by joints between my fingertips & my smeared lipstick.
i used to dream of your face & your face alone whenever i thought of intimacy
now morphed into the faces i've created in my mind to satisfy my perverted fantasies
i used to dream of you & i used to want you
i used to love you & i wrapped myself so far around your finger, my bones broke
but now i have no one left to crave, no one to keep my demons locked away,
no drug left to be addicted to & with no heart or life left in me
& so i return to the blackness i once belonged to, the filth that once pleased my twisted soul
succumbing to the zombie-like state i once lived for, my mind drowns itself in corruption
i've not yet acted upon these crooked thoughts
& i fight to keep my promise to you of being better
but why should i keep my promises when you've repeatly broken yours?
but how could i be pure when my idea of beauty & perfection was always dark, twisted & filthy?
The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose,
And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are not a rose--
You have always been the snake in the garden.
she wears her boyfriend's shirt
and loiters with his friends asking
for a lighter for her damp cigarette
she used to ask her father for everything
now she doesn't need him for anything
as she runs after her boyfriend's sillouette
her boyfriend asked for a break
which broke her heart and left her in a state
a lost weekend where she found comfort in sin
it seems old habits die hard
now she chases as she once did
this unusual love is something I won't forget