You were right, I don't need anything from you -
not the skype calls at one am
or the poems written in vague language.
I don't need your voice coming
across wires when all I want to do
is fall apart all over again.
And I suppose you were right when you said
that the walls only start talking once
the trouble maker fades away, but
you weren't the troubled one at all.
All spun like sugar and aged like wine
you were just a sense of poison
I wasn't able to name yet. Like
hemlock or too much lavender tea.
Hun, I can't tell you why you're still
captivating my heart and on my mind
everytime I turn around, even after I
swear I've moved on (for real this time?)
So I won't even try this time around,
but I do wonder what it would be like
to need you all over again.
No comments:
Post a Comment