Being Alive
Being Alive
So ruthlessly cold and empty,
These bedsheets mocking my sorrow.
Hearing every tick of the clock,
Reluctantly gazing at the mirror,
Seeing nothing but a wasted potential.
Strong is the urge to feel the life drain out of me,
Yet the dreams keep me awake.
All the thrill left to be experienced,
And all the cities left to be loved,
Leaves me wanting to see the life play out.
Setting the regrets on fire,
A toast to the feeling of being alive.
Let's get out and wander to a new country,
Dancing to the melodies we can't revive,
Singing the songs one never hears again in life.
Falling in love with strangers you see on the train
Knowing you'll never see them again.
Loving the cafes you know you'll never forget,
Turning the pages of a mysterious book,
In hurry, whose title you'll forget.
More Posts from Fallingapart2dream and Others
Oh Love, my blood staining your clothes. I bleed of not my essence but all the memories and promises you gave me. Feel it soak in your clothes, a part of us you failed to keep.
I have many regrets but oh my love, I'm afraid you will be that one I'll never be able to forget.
If I were to tell you all that hurts, if I were to open all my scars again, Oh darling would you let me bleed in your hands?
So much agony in your heart. Offer me a plate of your pain for it hurts me to see you suffering alone. Darling, let me suffer with you.
Choas of thoughts
Sitting alone in the dark brooding night
The party in full swing yet she's left out
The nicotine in her system
Along with dreams and hopes
But she's never satisfied
Now she can't hear her thoughts
Because in her head chaos is rooted
Turning to leave or to leap into desperation
But she's fine because she knows
She knows the sting of thorns of love
She knows her drugs
She knows her love
All the pills she is high on
All the nights she'd spent crying
She knows her addiction
She knows her desperation
So she is going back
Back to where she started of.
A Burning Love
Left with a bleeding heart,
An undying urge to crawl back to you.
All the shirts left behind burning in the hearth.
Was it really us that matter?
Or the ego you bring to the table?
All those flowers left at the doorstep,
I'll decorate your grave with them,
If not on your arrogance I will bury.
Don't beg for me in the evening,
When in morning you'll leave again,
Forget all the promises made,
Under the influence of my love.
You like to see me cry,
I like to see you bleed.
Your words, my feelings
My knife, your heart
A tragedy I will happily write
If you promise a last dance
Before we burn this house called love.
It's painful when your pain begins to feel painless....
-Sloth
I was never a human. I was just longing and melancholy that was shaped into one.
Jude Duarte be like:
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