It's four days away from Christmas
And quiet is the house
Not a peep but my lonesome teardrops
Heart breaking quiet as a mouse
We'll both be up at 3am today
For completely different reasons
Him because he yearns for her
And me because I need him
Unrequited love hurts, that is true
And all I want is a Christmas unstained by blue
Can you feel my heart, because it's beating for you
I won't repeat last year, I'll start something new
I cannot take another Christmas with a broken heart
Please, this year, can I have a new start?
So that I can guarantee that my sanity stays
If only I could get over you in four days
It's four days from Christmas
And quiet is the house
Not a peep but my lonesome teardrops
Heart breaking quiet as a mouse
A/N: I hate this poem. He inspired it, and I said I wouldn't cry. I didn't physically, but poetry is the crying of my soul, so it's all the same. There's no denying the fact that this was inspired by him, so it should be beautiful. It was supposed to be beautiful like him, but it just went downhill from the third line. :( Nevertheless, I won't delete this. I know you all will like this, even if I hate it, and you're what matters. After all, what would words be without the minds that read them? So I'll keep it, because even if he is my muse, my poems are the bleeding of my soul, and who says death always has to be so pretty?
YOU ARE READING
The Scrambled Philosophies That I Call Thoughts
PoetryThe scattered musings about love and life by a(n) (a)musing girl who knows little of either.
