All that remains,
is a montage in my mind,
a little cry of “after all, it didn’t mean much at all”.
It did,
to me.
All that remains,
is a recurring dream,
that is so sweet,
so cruel,
that it becomes a nightmare.
Sad sting,
in the corner of my eyes.
How they flow,
when the time is right,
when it’s wrong too,
all through the night,
just in time,
to catch me creeping home,
sold out by the stars.
Throwing the memory of you,
in a bottle,
against the back door,
watching the glass reform,
on the kitchen floor,
spelling your name,
cider,
settling around an island,
of the things I’d still say,
if I weren’t so afraid you’d reply with
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
I glitter, beside the glass,
bewitched by the moon,
the misleading mood,
a perverse kind of peace,
when the earth is finally still,
everything is destroyed,
but I can sit in silence,
and say those things,
without a reply.
I walked out of my mind,
because I didn’t want it anymore.
You ruined it.
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