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I find myself
getting childishly
envious of
people in the
streets who
are holding
cigarettes
Death.
I'm not angry,
not even annoyed,
I'm simply hurt.

Do I mean so little
that you enjoy
playing games with
my heart?

It hurts that sometimes
you care, and other
times you couldn't
give less of a ****.

Sometimes I'm your
sunshine,
and sometimes I'm
the rain on your
parade.

In the end, I know
that it's my fault,
I'm the one giving
you the power to
break me.
Sometimes I'm a good truther though.
the distance steals
the oxygen from
my lungs as i lie
awake at three
am thinking of
you
this distance will be the death of me
i've never felt
more alone
than when
you leave
without
warning
Short.
I caused the tears
To stream down her face
And wet her shirt

My mistakes are piling up
Higher and higher and higher
And I don't think she can take it anymore

Soon, I will be a distant memory
Soon, I will be her past
As she look towards a bright future
Without me
Without us
Without this
It's Dark in here.

I feel the Cold against the pores of my skin. Raw, Numb.
I draw a breath. The air - Icy, Damp and Wet.

I'm trapped inside the forgetton area of my Heart which beats so slowly, almost stopped.
The space in all our Hearts which we do not acknowledge exists.

It's Dark in here.

I'm locked, jailed, forbidden to leave.
I'm a prisinor of my own soul.
Despair my Prison Guards.
Hopelessness my Warden.
Loneliness my Executioner.

It's Dark in here.

I'm beginning to fade. I want to be free, and I think there is only One way. One way to stop the Cold. One way to escape. Yes, there is only One way to find any peace.
I am enveloped in a darkness that is strangling the spark from my existence.

It's Dark in here, without You.

You.

You, the one who is the Light to my Darkness.
The Solution to my life's question.
The Laughter to my sadness.
The Fulfilment to my utter emptiness.
The Warmth to my bitterly cold existence.
The Cure to my terminal sickness.
The Soul Mate to my heart.

It's not Dark here anymore. For when I think of you, I am Free.
 Nov 2015 xXwallflower53Xx
ks
every time we touched,
sparks didn't fly,
a tempest arose,
its origin the sky,
for I was the wind and
you were the sea,
devastation was meant to be.
 Nov 2015 xXwallflower53Xx
Lily
I don't want to be a trend
I just want to be a part of history
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