you avoid the pen
because you'd rather forget
than become increasingly aware
of your wilting state and your growing regret
you regret
allowing yourself to feel so intensely
you regret
wasting years and overdosing on sleep
but why not sleep?
it's the closest you'll get
it's a taste of death
a glimpse of the end-
that you swore
you yearned deeply for
but you become less and less sure
as time passes, and you are left fascinated, allured
with the distant possibility
of a burning love, so strong
that the sun itself dulls in comparison
although it is painfully unlikely
it's enough. at least for now.
at least for now.
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a/n: double update today bc i missed yesterday (yes ik it's after midnight but time isn't real so shhh)
here's a half hearted pedid entry for you
