I live in a loop, a never ending déjà vu. Sometimes I'm here, mostly I'm there. I'm always everywhen.
My memory, on repeat. Keeps on playing, like my favorite disc.
My heart, forever in love. Keeps on hurting like always before.
Only beating cause its pumping blood, cause I'm alive, cause my brain works. But for how long, though?
The disk will play out one day and the song is gonna skip itself. It won't work anymore. And I am gonna sink. Without music. Without love. Just drowning in the depths of my silenced song.
Well... it could be good to finally get out of this constant.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers of my life
ŞiirPoems. Based on women that came (but eventually left, too) into my life to stay forever. Even tho, the roots of these flowers are fed on unrequited love, they are enduring and gorgeously painful.
