OBSIDIAN ISSUE #2 : WOUNDED
You met me with death in my mind, a war in my soul. While what caught my sight was the ink in your bones. I stepped into the midnight with those black hole orbs. Half crescent mystery, there's more to you that I need to know.
Amity's a fruit that two could share. I fell to your abyss along the hundreds of days and care. Its acquaintance was a leak of your ways; A vent for void spaces and search for a saving grace.
This is toxic, I knew this would be. But you are kinder to me than I am to myself.
The more you inhale the less you breathe the air that has to keep you alive with me.
Yet I aid for you to get over the passing even when I haven't yet saved myself.
One night, I lay in your arms while you can lie straight to your teeth. There was only one white lie that I want me to believe.
"Tell me you love me, even when you don't and can't."
You said, "Yes, I do." A stone-cold tone, and raspy bland.
The scrape in my chest by the sharp of your cheek bones. Consoled the fire of pain with the each kisses you've blown. Every bite you make always turns blood red. Every bite was soothed by the gray in the smoke of your cigarette.
Half-hundredth day, I began to notice. Hollowed cheeks, when your mouth is empty and in every kisses. To feed you with words of love only falls bare, for nothing fills your lungs but nicotine air.
This has been a sacrifice, I knew it would be. I never listened when you said, "Stay away." 'Cause you can't walk away from me. You turn your back every damn time you're sober. But when you're fucking high, your hands reach mine then you pull me closer.
And I do. And I realized. Deep down and hard.
As I tie the rope in my neck and watch my life written in scars.
I do. I've always known but I chose to disregard.
That in loving a broken man, I earned a wounded heart...