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Adelleda 5:31 p.m. 2005-03-17 You had such grace. And they lied to you when they promised that things could get better, you promised a sleight of hand and a perfect situation. I swear to god you promised me more. Why did you have to scrape those knees last summer because barring that injury everything would be different. Why did you have to steal me away? Its raw emotion that creates this infirmary and the wounds here are not perceptable. You've ruined every inch of me, and this isn't for you. Innocence lost at these tips of these fingers I am dying in the embers and slowhand resemblance to your face in the shadows and clouds overhead depict a perfect murder as your incision runs deep. A false sense of security and the knowledge that we're finished. An overwhelming depth and the bloodred of your scars is tapping doors and creating footsteps lined in lace and lies. Your honesty and your fucking lips. You never meant for any of this to happen but in the splitsecond slashes of conspiracy and twilight the edges of this flesh are fading. You are a fractured vertebrae at the end of this column you are the reoccuring nightmare that haunts this laconic reassurance and drunken rambling. You are silver and thunder a surrounding sense of ash and flame and the portrait he painted back when were were naive. We are nothing special and nothing perfect and we are full of blood and lust and you let so much of this get in the way. Fucker. Liar. Betrayer. How does it feel to know that the actions you took broke everything. How does it feel to know that every day I am lost in this storm because of you full of discontent and loss. How does it feel to know that to think of you is to splice my soul with fragments of the mirror you shattered depicting you and I? Did you know that you've broken me completely? Fuck you. I can't believe I ever loved you can't believe you ever meant this, in light of recent missed calls I can't believe you were every beautiful. When they let you down you have no place to turn and this knife and this cigarette will be the last parade as rainclouds cover skies and midnight tolls and the guilt becomes allencompassing. And just so you know, no matter how much i hate you, I'll hate myself more for the way I feel. back & forth |