Serendipity…
Regardless, whether she blatantly said it or it’s unconsciously embedded
in her smile, stare, or those words that quietly stepped around the subject
he notices quickly and always seems to want it.
But it induces costly damage to his sanity.
Relentlessly, thinking and questioning on how he chooses to live.
Constant reminders make him realize how love sick he really is.
“So much I’m willing to give”
Up….
Realistically it is that tough, after telling yourself several times, “Enough is enough.”
Then finally figuring out that its Love’s favorite bluff.
Flashbacks, sleep deprived, wondering every single night, “How am I getting by?”
Sighs and closes his eyes. Wakes up as cold as ice.
But she tries, to answer a simple ultimatum that could easily save him.
Pending, so he feels like he’s caved in.
Because that simple question has so many underlying variables
that no one knows. Even though, it can be solved by the flip of a coin.
So he’s still unsure, which way to go,
and she doesn’t know which way the sign should point.
“I’ll always be there for you…” He’s never felt so alone.
More concerned for each other’s feelings then their own.
That night, they shared their final kiss while tears ran down her face.
Unusually cold, it slowly began to rain.
She knew exactly what lied ahead; give him a week it’ll go straight to his head.
(I don’t want to lose you. I’m scared with you and I’m scared without you.)
Holding on to her feelings closely because she knew they were true.
Severely confused, he didn’t know what to do.
Couldn’t process the situation,
because she spoke from both ends of the spectrum,
so she had him demanding clarification.
(Words nor logic can explain my reasoning, please… don’t leave and forget about me.)
Tortured. Because he can’t learn a lifelong lesson.
Punished. Because he’s not in her presence.
Discontentment. A lacking friendship, seldomly asking, “So how’ve you been?”
He omits, the immeasurable amount of hours spent,
contemplating from day to night,
the occasional acquaintances with the morning light,
and the times when he closes his eyes.
Or what about when he forces himself to cry?
(Pretends) “Everything’s a lie.”
At last being able to wash out his emotional ties.
Inebriated, addicted. Could swear, heroin has never seen a better high.
Because in those five minutes, he feels like he’s actually living.
Lost it but was essentially winning, so close to accepting a new beginning.
Time’s up.
(Deep breath) Inhale everything emanated. Tastes expired, outdated.
How long can you hold your façade this time? How many times are you going back and giving it another try?
No light coming from either side.
He arbitrarily stands up and decides to walk blindly in a direction.
Sitting there, scared, was never his true intention.
But still wants to pace back and forth, realizing he might have made the wrong choice.
“No, I’m finally resorting to fate,” as he places the final bet.
Serendipitous that they ever met.
Regardless, whether she blatantly said it or it’s unconsciously embedded
in her smile, stare, or those words that quietly stepped around the subject
he notices quickly and always seems to want it.
But it induces costly damage to his sanity.
Relentlessly, thinking and questioning on how he chooses to live.
Constant reminders make him realize how love sick he really is.
“So much I’m willing to give”
Up….
Realistically it is that tough, after telling yourself several times, “Enough is enough.”
Then finally figuring out that its Love’s favorite bluff.
Flashbacks, sleep deprived, wondering every single night, “How am I getting by?”
Sighs and closes his eyes. Wakes up as cold as ice.
But she tries, to answer a simple ultimatum that could easily save him.
Pending, so he feels like he’s caved in.
Because that simple question has so many underlying variables
that no one knows. Even though, it can be solved by the flip of a coin.
So he’s still unsure, which way to go,
and she doesn’t know which way the sign should point.
“I’ll always be there for you…” He’s never felt so alone.
More concerned for each other’s feelings then their own.
That night, they shared their final kiss while tears ran down her face.
Unusually cold, it slowly began to rain.
She knew exactly what lied ahead; give him a week it’ll go straight to his head.
(I don’t want to lose you. I’m scared with you and I’m scared without you.)
Holding on to her feelings closely because she knew they were true.
Severely confused, he didn’t know what to do.
Couldn’t process the situation,
because she spoke from both ends of the spectrum,
so she had him demanding clarification.
(Words nor logic can explain my reasoning, please… don’t leave and forget about me.)
Tortured. Because he can’t learn a lifelong lesson.
Punished. Because he’s not in her presence.
Discontentment. A lacking friendship, seldomly asking, “So how’ve you been?”
He omits, the immeasurable amount of hours spent,
contemplating from day to night,
the occasional acquaintances with the morning light,
and the times when he closes his eyes.
Or what about when he forces himself to cry?
(Pretends) “Everything’s a lie.”
At last being able to wash out his emotional ties.
Inebriated, addicted. Could swear, heroin has never seen a better high.
Because in those five minutes, he feels like he’s actually living.
Lost it but was essentially winning, so close to accepting a new beginning.
Time’s up.
(Deep breath) Inhale everything emanated. Tastes expired, outdated.
How long can you hold your façade this time? How many times are you going back and giving it another try?
No light coming from either side.
He arbitrarily stands up and decides to walk blindly in a direction.
Sitting there, scared, was never his true intention.
But still wants to pace back and forth, realizing he might have made the wrong choice.
“No, I’m finally resorting to fate,” as he places the final bet.
Serendipitous that they ever met.