the morning light used to always remind me of you
constantly on edge. waiting for you to want me, to feel me in your veins like I did with you.
but long ago I realized it was not love
just another fixation - as always.
and I promised myself
I would not not forget who I was again.
but the shakespearean calamity I've got myself into now has got me reminiscent of the simpler times where I could be enchanted with somebody's celestial eyes
without the flood of guilt weighing me down
(is this how love is supposed to feel?)
the end is near for me and my baby
I can feel it in my caving chest
whenever the meek remnants of my love rustles in my synthetic heart.
but she's so very attached and I'm ever so detached
this was bound to happen sometime, I know!
yet I never braced myself
for the troubling times ahead.
