Two months past and you didn't consume my mind
Despite the lust I kept hidden inside
Until once again you hijacked my dream
I wish I knew what it all means
Why is it impossible to read your vibes
You give me an inch but I want a mile
Showing keenness has never been my style
But how you press your lips together and smile sends me wild
How the sides grey and the front strands stray
How your eyes say more than you intend them to say
Or maybe it's just my thoughts leading me astray
Surely you're aware of your teasing way
i saw you yesterday.
you were a seed
capable of growing
into a climbing plant
sticking to all thought
and turning it a little bit more
but i yesterday,
a clay pot,
painted in bright colors,
wasn't able to grow anything.
i don't know
if the reason was
i watered you
or because my soil
is not that fertile anymore.
There's very few sentences that can sum me up
as well as if I was to tell you
when the day takes too long or the night ends too quick
when the pain of the last few makes me feel like I'll never love again
or when Iron & Wine starts playing again when it's much too late for that,
then by saying sometimes
I still cry about a girl I never even got to touch.
I lost the chance years ago, but I'm still here writing about her.
for me, that means:
I am resilient. I will love you until the end of time, even if I don't know you.
I don't know when enough is enough. giving up is something I never learned how to do, and my expiration date was marked the second she took her call. knew that then, still do now.
I see clearer now than I ever have before, but I look around and I wonder what it's like to be found.
I almost got to touch her, once or twice, but I just laid in her sheets and wondered if I did it now, if it'd hurt worse later.
if I do this now, if I put it into words, will it still hurt me in the morning?
I'll never find an easier way to let you in on what the inside of my body looks like than by telling you that I still cry for a girl I never even touched.
I'm not sure you know what I mean by that.
It was my birthday
But I cried
I was suppose to be all happy and cheers
But I cried
Found myself drowning in tears.
I was hoping you would still be the first.
For the past two years,
You were the first to wished me without fail.
But this year I was left in tears.
Wherever you are, whatever you're doing… my heart still feels you near me…
Your beautiful eyes,
Your... that… heavenly hair,
Your ingenious walk, your sugary talk, your life-stopping smile, your melodious anger,
You are beautiful in everything you do and everything that you are…
My sweet angel of pain and resurrection,
You have made me surrender my heart, soul and life at your tender feet…
This silence from you kills me
Torments me day and night
With tears of agony, I smile before everyone
Hiding that crushing feeling your silence gives me…
I yearn every second to be yours… only yours…
My sweet angel of love and hate,
Where are you now?
Your warmth is what my body seeks,
My souls searches….
I love you to every eternity I take and more than that.
Look, they say the first cut is the deepest
But thy don't tell you that the shit will almost kill yeah.
You try to bury the pain with unfamiliar faces
hotel rooms, parking lots and other random places..
Man, love will get you killed.
Friday nights offer opportunities to
Further console yourself in the
Arms of other
Oh dear father
I am the seed you created
Shaped by the love of my sweet old dear mother..
Damn, it's been a year and this feelings
Are as real as the day we first met
This shit is sad.
Bitterness and resentment fake themselves as friends,
Alcohol comes easy
Bottles run empty
After 7am feeling queasy
She gotta leave.
I aint got love for other
But my ex who probably found herself
A new lover,
Man, thy say the first cut is the deepest
But they don't tell you that
This shit will almost kill yeah..
You see, the shots keep coming
And the sheets keep changing
but the heart keeps beating..
I wanted to tell you a love story,
But I heard every great story has been lived.
I could tell you of an almost,
almost is a marvellous tragedy.
Of which i have many.
So, lets start again.
Let me tell you a tale of tragedy,
I assure you,
the greatest stories are ones that have been
I was raised by a mentally ill father.
Because there is comfort in numbers,
I, too, was afflicted by a similar disorder.
It’s difficult to separate the person from the sickness,
Sometimes we become the shadowy monster,
Embrace it with wilted roses,
Knowing too well that of everything else,
The disorder will still be there,
My shadow has been dormant.
My father’s is still active,
Sometimes when we meet it’s like a perfect storm,
A tornado of comfort.
Someone understands the climate.
I take my father’s hand encouragingly,
He turns to run, squirrely,
The shadow greets me with open arms.
I love the shadow as much as I love the man.
After all, there is comfort in numbers.
I envy for that, forever sleep
That comes up naturally
From which I wish, I do not wake
In which I lose myself totally
So deeply drowned
Even a thought can not reach
My brain a frozen vacuum
Nothing to it, you can teach
But these eyes do not sleep
The doors to my brain,
Are always active and awake
Only to watch these eyes rain
The aches and pain soothes
My delicate, withered body
A touch brings me shivers
But with me, there is nobody
I crave for that everlasting love
That oneday I'd be an apple
In the eyes of somebody
But it seems it's too late
To takecare of my own body
Weak and paralyzed
Covered in shroud likes sheets
I hear the whispers of death
...............counting on my beats!