Reach for me.
I am the shadow of some solitary oblivion.
My heart is suffering too much,
Misery becomes the helm of the series,
I lie back on the softness…
like a bed of nails, it hurts me like it must.
The kohl of my eyes, so grey, with tears lingering all around.
I can hardly breathe anymore, I can’t move.
How do you stimulate this amount of contemptuous pain and sorrow, so smothering in your mere presence?
But he, he lifts up my soul, all so vaguely right.
He makes me want him more, he makes me forget all remorse.
How do I feel this way?
In this surreality of my existence, like a solemn scene of bask and sorrow.
Perhaps I’ll live, perhaps I’ll die.
Just when did the night sky went so starry and the sun found a home behind the clouds?
And when did you leave so subtly and he moved in like he belonged here?
I am caught in a conundrum, though.
Is my head absorbing all the juvenile delinquency around and exuding the most picturesque memories of the past?
It’s a ridiculous predicament I am caught in the middle of…
because the flower was plucked only to adorn the Bride’s lush.