Say you want this,
To be loved.
Say you need him, to feel alive.
But when you stop talking, his silence echoes in your mind.
You miss him in November,
In the midst of cold mornings, you yearn for his sweater.
The one which kept you warm during those freezing nights,
The one lying torn to shreds by your bedside.
I asked you, when you felt most full of life,
'Drenching my pillows, rain pouring from my eyes," you replied.
Addicted to this pain, the one you keep running away from,
When in truth, it's all you're running to.
You can't feel empty,
Nothingness could never save you.
So you cry alone, trying to feel alive.
When July comes, the sun blinds you,
You never look at it, for you may become see-through.
You wish to be this mystery,
When in reality you're on the poster of lucidity.
Say you're everything you want to be,
But it's never enough.
You hear screaming but it's not your own,
Worried, you answer the door,
Only to find it's a 17-year-old girl in tears,
You look at her face,
You're looking at you.
