Romantic Thievery

I wonder how it feels like to be so close to you,
to touch your fingers and hold them tight..
How I wish this simple dream to come true;
this small wish to find its way to the light.
Yet I can only write the words of this fantasy
on a dream that fades itself away too fast,
and I'm beginning to hate it more, this reality;
that what I thought we had, what I had, would last.
Driven only by cold coffee on this dry mid morning trip,
pulled back by a wounded ego and an injured heart;
I try to sedate myself through frozen bitter sips
of what once tasted so sweet now the taste is torn apart.
Writing everything down as if for you to read,
what I can't say may these lines be able to tell;
that I am crippled, in pain, unable, because of what you did;
unable to to recover - I'm cursed to be forever unwell.
I am hopeless, as Hopelessness' private slave;
I am foolish, as Martyrdom's romantic tragedy;
I am broken, as Bravery has lost its glorious glaive;
I stand on the same ground, waiting eagerly - desperately.


This is all just a dream and I can't wait to awaken..
Slitting my wrists and enjoying the numbness and pleasure,
intoxication has robbed me of all physical pain,
this is reality and I knew it all along, that's for sure.