Pain is the only visible ghost.
Cold and stingy.
It is what i feel when you are not around.
It is what hits me when you are not around me.
Ive tried countless of times to suffocate it
Through the lies and incertitude.
There is not enough bottles to contain it,
And not enough paper to burn it away.
This itching sensation,
Your touch on my heart,
That i scratch so hard to only find myself
Biting my nails all over again.
I saw it coming.
Just like the rains on the mountains,
Racing down my cheeks
That you allowed to feel
What my lips wanted to taste.
I must be your sun,
I never got to see your eyes
Gazing over me.
Optimistic pain,
Museum love.
How can i pick up the pieces
When my hands only want to feel
That back of yours
Leaning on my soul
As a night and morning routine.
Death cannot claim me yet.
Eternally breathing the dust of time
Killing me slowly.
I can see your love smoking away.
I can see myself desperately
Trying to get second-hand smoke.
This is the pain of mystery.
You're that drug lying to my heart.
That distortion into my ideal.
Every night i die in my dreams,
And every morning i resurrect in hell.
It'll take a lifetime
to be able to stop your voice of joy
From ripping my heart open.
It'll take even more for me to stop
Recalling this painful cut.
For as the shattered memories
Glide up to my eyes
To carve your burning smile.
