with every passing day and every bloodied kiss
the thorny stems of this rose, they prick my tender lips
at the end of every day and at every new moon
i sit by the window and wish to get to see you soon
the blood on my lips, the tears rolling down my cheeks
moisten our old letters when i read them every week
this numbness.
this pain.
it starts to feel like home, every night that i spend alone.
the candlewax, it doesn't burn me,
the sharp quills, they don't cut me,
but when i think of you, your being, your life, our love,
it hurts me.
it hurts me, when i realise it's true,
it hurts me, when my memories are all that remain of you.
when you were carried down the pathway,
subsequently your ashes they flew away.
i stood there looking at the sunset, thinking to myself,
why, oh why, did you have to take my sunshine away?
as i walked through our grove, the flowers they seemed to shrivel,
the air it seemed to bite.
but the only thing on my mind, was your tender face and loving smile.
as i walked endlessly, aimlessly, plucking flowers for no one,
your rose it sat by waiting for someone who's one with the sun.
with every other kiss, my lips they continue to be pricked
but they keep the petals moist, because all they wait for is your kiss.
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...i love you too. But i hold back, fearing that what you feel right now may dissipate the next moment like every other thing that has ever made me smile. Maybe leaving those words unsaid, hanging in the air with the thick fog of tension and longing would make our moment last a little longer. Maybe, just maybe, i get to brush my lips against your shoulder one last time before it turns cold towards me.
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the stars love the moon, but the moon is too busy soaking in the light of the sun to know they exist. so they do it from afar- unrequited love.
the moon longs, and so do the stars, but even they know that they don't even come close to the sun, drowning in it.
that’s when stars finally take the last fall.
...and we wish upon their heartbreaks to save our own.
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Falling into love?
You really can’t do anything. Except fall. Carelessly. Miraculously. Unknowingly. I wish you had control. Love is a place where your heart is free to dance to a rhythm you can never control.
Maybe that's why you can't control your heartbeat. Or who it beats for.
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