Sorry, there is nothing pure about the things we do.
You fight so hard, so much,
Not to be seen, loved or heard.
Then, someone looks at you differently,
And it’s fine.
To give it in, tear it down, stripping it all.
Vulnerability makes you loose it like shit.
They say, “Give it to the fire.”
Your pride, guilt, lust, teeth and yourself………….
She spits fire as she gets close
My skin screams, ignites;
I feel the screech of fear and pleasure
I run away from fear.
I run back for pleasure.
Pushing up my toes,
We work it out like sun and moon,
I only glow when I am reflecting off of you.
Or, at least we believed so.
Guess what! You should know about us more.
No, we shouldn’t.
Or maybe we should.
There are perfect graceless nights when you stay.
We suffer from amnesia,
Forget about the distance monster.
In the morning,
You go away because you need to.
And I understand because I have to.
There is nothing pure about any of this.
Sorry, I was never born to drown.
We sit down to eat,
We have nothing to say
The breakfast gets as cold as our feelings.
Sorry, I was too busy seeing happy people on other table.
Sorry, I was too busy swallowing the big lump in my throat.
With that follows scream,
Screams that form words, “psychopath, sociopath and foul”
Then, you and I leave.
We return back,
Blame it to the long distance monster.
But What about the monsters we tuck under our beds?
Our tongues get tied up as we hide each other’s demons.
There was nothing pure about us.
We were together for a summer,
After that it was just 9 month’s long influence.
I wish it wasn’t influence
I wish it was love.
So, you came back
You are here now
I ask, “For how long?”
“Summer break!” she says
You are here now
And the perfect graceless nights are merely obligations.
We are nothing more than jewelries.
Easily worn and taken off.
Told us we were like sun and moon.
Every night I live and you die.
And it gets eclipsed when we meet.
You shouldn’t have trusted me.
You know how moon works,
It changes everyday.
so do I.
I know I tore you open with my ignorance
We both know we tried to feel anything at all.
We failed to recreate graceless nights similar to our remembrance.
I know it is gonna hurt.
So, I will run away first.
Someone will love us.
But that someone isn’t us.
She wishes to never meet me, she knows.
I am falling back to the dark hole I came from
And I never felt this safe to curl up while expectation snows.
So, fuck you!
Dark hole was never a place.
Until I created it.
People call it being alone.
I call it “not drowning into someone else’s shit”