It all ends up the same way. I put my heart out, then I end up getting hurt again. Always the never-ending cycle of pain and silence. I tried to reach out, but ended up pulling up nothing. I'm still trying to remember the golden days, remembering when I was your world, and you were mine, not when I was your go-to girl.
But when you disappeared, and told me you were okay, I knew you lied to my face. I tried to comfort you, but ended up pushing you away even more, if even possible. You were distant and didn't contribute to the conversation, but left it to me to hold up both our ends. You suceeded in making me fall for you, trying to keep us together, and getting me hurt again.
i couldn't even look at you, because I have no respect for a man who can't hold his own. The darkness has left my head, but only for a moment, when you told me you loved me, then it returned, calling me its owner, its master. It plays on my hands. Like the fire on my fingertips, you fade in and out, each time always a different mood.
I can't keep up with you, you're unstable. Never in the right mood for me, so I retreat to a new other half. My new playmate. His sharp kiss on my arm, causing a drop of blood to fall on my leg. He makes his way higher until he reaches my neck, where he leaves his imprint forever, sweeping across my flesh.
Now I know one thing for sure.
I'm never getting hurt again.
YOU ARE READING
POISON
PoetryPoetry for those who who like deep works, with twisted stanzas and what not. It includes a bit of poetry for a variety of types of people. Whoever likes it, please leave me your thoughts...
