With you I feel content.
A sense of negligence.
It's like you never left.
Forgiveness isn't intelligence.
I feel like I'm wasting away.
The rotting potential.
The verge of existential crisis.
Only to smell the deja vu.
And gardens of eve only open for eyes.
The preservation of youth.
Must it all come to an unknownly end?
I can't even comprehend.
But the love I once knew was only a facade.
To overcome the broken past.
I am not healing or growing even though I'm planted.
As I still feel sad inside.
