I question if I still have your love, even as I hold your heart in my hand. Words surrounding me, circling, whispering as I slowly try to breathe. Shakily here before you I stand, as I try to rationalize desperately. My gaze searches yours quietly, and I know you must think it's with adoration, but I'm now breathing more heavily. My fingers itch to reach you, but those words cause my hesitation.
You use to want to kiss me every second of every day, now it seems my lips have grown chapped in your absence. Our conversations dwindling towards mundane, and I fight the whisper saying it all makes sense. You use endearments that I always thought stopped at the surface, and I wish I was able to slip by it.
We use to talk into the twilight, damning anyone telling us we needed to sleep, promising each other forever, but what all else did we say? We spoke of heart ache, both deep and light, of dreams for the future, if they ever take flight. And slowly, in my life you were rooted deep.
I question if I still have your love, even as I hold your heart in my hand. Words surrounding me, circling, whispering as I slowly try to breathe. Shakily here before you I stand, as I try to rationalize desperately. My gaze searches yours quietly, and I know you must think it's with adoration, but I'm now breathing more heavily. My fingers itch to reach you, but those words cause my hesitation.
Tears hover at the surface when the words come, even though my face remains void. They tell me the things lingering in the corners of my mind, all too keen to say I am your porcelain toy. You say you know me, but how far does that go? Because I don't think you know how often I'm angry, nor why I still feel so alone.
You see me as some paragon, and you've put me on a shelf, but that shelf is so high..... What if I can't help myself? What if the whispers find the right word to topple me? I'm on a shelf, left to dangle my feet until someone rescues me. But the Words my dearest, they're so loud, so painfully loud that each step you take closer is another moment my hands quaver. You start to see the cracks you didn't before, your perfect porcelain doll I am no more.
The tears have broken through as my grasp on reality slips, I turn to you with watery eyes and in my haze I finally ask it.
" Do you still love me?"
I questioned if I still had your love, even as you hold my heart in your hand. Words surrounding me, circling, whispering as I slowly try to breathe. Shakily here before you I demand, as I try to rationalize desperately. My gaze searches yours quietly, and I know you must think it's with obsession, but I'm now breathing more heavily. My fingers itch to reach you, but my words cause my hesitation.
