These were the sacred words
Be mine baby all mine
As I kissed you
As I loved you
Be mine baby just mine
It's a wish
It's a request
Be mine baby girl
I'm asking you to stay
I'm asking you for trust
Be my love baby girl
I'll make you my life
I'll make you my wife

Oh but look at you
You wanted that other one
That other guy
While I was here
Giving you myself
You were busy
Making him yours
Looking at a face not mine
Looking at a body not mine
Looking for love not mine

Fuck you baby girl
For this is what you made of us
For this is what you did for us
Get the fuck out
Ask him for love
And see for yourself
Can he love half of mine
Will he even ask you
To "be mine"

It's quite tragic actually
because after time and time
of feeling
and being torn apart piece by piece
my brain was finally done.
Like all of my feelings have been endured and experienced
and what's even more heartbreaking is that It's like I cannot
even feel anymore.
An eternal trench in my stomach
that continuously spews and extracts an addicting
  senseless toxin
              and
  bitter venom
my heart becomes cold
and no more tears can be shed because
it's
Game over.

And what was the most fearful part? You questioned.
The most fearful part is not the perception of desolation
or the iniquity that consumes you.
Regardless of the emerging discomfort
of vacancy.
The most frightening part is
the
awareness,
that you have entirely
forgotten yourself.
As you lay awake and conscious
Slowly deteriorating at beginning of night,
because you have lost the capability to sleep
and you cannot even cry
because
you
don't
even
care.

Can you see your shadows
   getting far each dusk
      A little by little
         From me?
           Can you feel my breathing
             with fear of being lost
                on your shoulder?

             Do you hold your breaths
        With empty promises
   For someone else now?  
Do you still dream
of me?

   If you are sad in a dream,
        Do you still smile when wake up?
          Do you still listen
            same songs        
              for weeks?  
              Do you know  
                I don't draw the map
                 on silver sands
                of my way back to home?

              Do you walk on our
            favourite paths in the twilight?
        Do you see the memory lane
     Void in the neon lights?
   Do you know
      We won't wake up
          in the same lands?

           Someday
             Will you look for me
               admist of strangers?
                Whom will you blame
             When I am long gone?
         Who will trade freedom
    In return of your love?
        Who will leave the world
               for you?  

                   Will your hearts cry
                 For me ?
              when the city
          Will wake you up
       I will be
    Somewhere
 In a distant sea
                     ~

I
have lost words
in need of writing;
speaking in hushed tones,
around corners,
in the alleyways of crowded cities,
in the shadows behind closed doors,
behind the backs of those
in need of hearing them the most.

I,
as well as many others,
have words,
many lost words,
in need of writing.
Fetching my journals,
my pen,
I hault ...
hand shaking just centimeters -
Centimeters -
above the smooth curves of the papers edge ....


It is here that I fear
those lost words,
though spoken oft,
may ne'er leave my fingertips
Again.

Can you be a has been if you never were?

Can you even compete, when you've already lost the war?

Can you make your soul bleed if you're made of stone?

Can you speak the words without your words coming out like tar?

These are questions I don't know
I guess Ill find out as things unfold.
I hope for the best.
And wish nothing but love.

Hopefully more is to come.