The things I would do to have you in my arms again.
To bring you back from the dead and have you as you were then.
Row after row of people id cut down
To die into your skin, delve deeper in and drown.
My body aches, increasingly everyday, longing for that touch of yours.
The fingers that left my back have been replaced with nothing but heavy sores.
Impressions and crater marks haunt every open pore.
And im screaming at the bolted exit and at the padded floor.
Guess what I found inside my room tonight...
Assuredly not sleep, its far more cruel a sight,
To witness in all beauty your face in my head.
And wish unto god that id never wake up and then be dead
That id dreamt it and it was the last thing I saw
That the last thing id touched was the lilt in your jaw.
Pulling your lips into mine as I spoke.
"I love you", leaving my mouth as I choke.
But I never seem to die, I awake and you're still gone.
And im afraid that what we said about staying friends was truly wrong.
The distance keeps growing, the dreams don't stop coming.
Even though I never gave up without the intention of loving.
So why am I struggling?
Why is it that I cant stand your absence,
Yet refuse to let myself become a victim of weakness?
I cant tell you that I regret the things I said and did,
But the way you make me feel is something I myself cant rid.
Ive tried to stuff it down, but you know how I am.
Or how I was, because how I am is a funky anagram.
A collage of gunky animalistic desire.
That burns, not unlike your things in this fire.
That I made prior...
I burnt your things, It got rid of your scent.
In hopes that in someway it would serve to repent,
For the way you still affect me, and how I let it seep
Into my bones and in my mind when I desperately try to sleep.
