The fire laps, at my willing skin,
as I wait for my ending, to begin,
the heat it sears, and skin turns black,
as I hope this time, I won't come back,
but then water runs, along my arm,
this was just another, pointless harm,
yet I am glad, for harms distract,
and I need time, to recompose my act.
I miss the days, when I could say,
all the things I needed to,
When I could stutter through some poems,
And explain why I love you.
I miss the days when I could call,
At 2AM in tears,
And you would be there for me,
And brush away my fears.
I miss the days when I was there,
And you were by my side,
When you laughed your sweet sweet laughter,
And I didn't have to hide.