I am sick of wasting my energy Convincing people that I am deserving of their affection That I am deserving of love from those who I want it most. All they've done is take and demand more. Slightest afflictions would send me profusely apologizing. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. When I owe nothing of the sorts.
You say I betrayed you, but you stopped talking first. You say I left you behind but I don't recall your footprints by mine. You're life has changed and you hate that. I'm just a reminder of what your life used to be like. I am not responsible for your happiness, yet you mar mine. You didn't want to hurt alone, so you ensured I'd hurt too.
I let the numbness wash over calluses form on my heart, roughly applied. The first time hurts, but eventually it hurts a little less. Blisters form until that thick patch of skin builds up and my patience wears down, and now my empathy can be short-lived.
We swapped roses, unaware yours had thorns. I pricked my finger and now the yellow is stained with red and skin will need to be cleaned and bandaged and the heart continues to be broken despite increased fortification.
I thought what doesn't **** you makes you stronger, that it creates perseverance. And it does, but it hardens the soft in spirit and my patience is no longer there for you. And leaving gets easier. Saying goodbye gets easier And it hurts a little less. I care a little less. And I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
You can't help it if someone lashes out and projects their insecurities onto you. It is nothing you did.
Someday, I may start moving on. I know that's what you'd want. But I need you to hear me when I say "I ain't going nowhere." I may grieve, but I'll never let the memories leave. I'll never let the music die. And when times get tough, I'll never forget I have an angel on my side
There's room to live. There's room to love. There's room to hate. There's room to forgive. There's room to change. There's room to grow. There's room to breathe. There's room to believe. There's room to grieve. There's room to run. There's room to have fun. There's room for everything And everyone. You just have to make it.
WISH She could live again, fixating, in the air seeing her face on the front page of the mind space. A soul whereth cometh the poet's hearth. You ever wished for a dearest lost dead to relive again? Grieved, in-on the heart, severe pain. She never dies. Pondered hard how mother had to die and offspring breathing, she never dies she dwell in-on us replacing herself. 🍏 Wish she should live again. REST IN PARADISE MOTHER. #c9_fm