bright
The one bright spot,
within my days,
smeared with deep blacks,
pale blues, and cold grays.
Feel loved?
I just want to touch you,
and just once,
have it feel the way it used to.
Maybe I'm sick of the truth,
maybe I need to be lied to.
Yeah-fabrication,
thats what we should look into.
Because spoken dedication is just not enough,
for me.
And choking on complication is too much,
for you.
Maybe we got so close,
that true love crept right past us.
Beacause our love has proven to be little,
more than disasterous.
And I can't take this.
I got a migraine, and a fear of small places.
And love is trying my patience.
Fighting so endless.
A drain so relentless.
And I lie here in bed,
cold, and restless.
I guess I should've seen this coming,
guess I should've guessed it.
I guess its one more ending,
yet again so eventless.