A poem a wrote a while back. I had to re-write it, so I decided, hey. Why not post it in a journal? So here it is.
I cannot take this feeling of loneliness. I cannot feel anything through this depression. This horrendous numbness overtakes my burning passion. It resurfaces as I hear your voice. However, you are not hospitable, as I remember you to be. Your crude, biting sarcasm cuts into me, like the blade that cuts through my skin. Into my very being. The pain is like adrenaline, it is such a rush for me. The blood used to remind me of how much I cared for you. Now it’s just a way to die, ever so slowly, with each lie, each regret, each sorrow spilling from the wound. Pale skin stained and tarnished with the red of my blood. Of my memories of you. I will never forget your intoxicating words of “I don’t love you”, and “It never was”. Your curt goodbyes. The way you make me feel. I hate the words you say, I hate how you make me life, how you make me smile. I hate how I do not, cannot hate you for hurting me. I will continue to dream of you, to remember how I truly love you. How I will always love you. Until the end of time.
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RANDOMNESS=HAPPINESS!
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Purple Shirt of Sex
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