Your heart is pure,
and your mind clear,
and soul devout
An upsetting reminder of my fallacy of a past.
A recollection of the lie we lived.
A little white note; simultaneously an unbearable memory and a dim ambition.
Do you remember the innocence?
Do you remember the beginning?
We were so young;
so pure, so clear, so devout.
Do you miss those days?
The days of clear summer skies,
before the sky turned black
before the floods began
before I drowned in an ocean of chaos and our own blood;
reaching a hand infinitely into the clouds,
searching for something to save me;
your loving summer hand.
When will this addiction break?
When do the withdrawals stop?
Im sick of the fucking cuts.
Please, just make the bleeding stop;
why does love hurt more than hate ever could?