the slow art of breathing bitter

Afraid

Sometimes,

I wish to go back,

and read the words

in pure black

That I've written long ago.

In all honesty,

I've never tried to

because that was all about you.

Those edgy blurred lines,

your pretty lies,

and me crying at midnight.

It's always been you,

the only one I will

fall for on and on.

I'm too scared to read them

in the dark

when it's half past twelve.

It reminds me

of you,

and I hate that

because I've always loved you

in dark spells

and decayed hours.

I wish I could always stay in the dark

And never wake up when you'd return.

And I'm sure

it's yet another

desire,

scarier than

the words that hang

on the page—

Wild dreams, lampshade nightmares.

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A/N: Hi ho, a-voting will go...