I’m not really sure if you care,
Or if it is a cruel running joke…
Sometimes, I can feel you there,
Even see you, as through smoke.
You don’t deserve to be my leaning post,
I don’t deserve to be the one you love the most.
I love you, I hope that you are okay,
That you have found a way out of the dismay.
That you don’t think of me every day,
At least, not in this painful way…
I’m not sure
If it’s ironic
I get the most
Likes I’ve ever had
When I record my thoughts
When I’m lonely, completely mad…
I don’t know why
It’s comforting when you lie,
It’s not okay, not even remotely,
But, for some reason, it’s what I want
You to tell me.
I want to talk to you,
But I don’t want
My stress to rub off on you,
To seem needy,
Or (worse) greedy.
I don’t want to use you,
Or to hurt you,
I want everything I say
To be true,
So I stay away
When I need you the most…
Both haunted and comforted
By our love’s ghost.
I don’t like the space
Where loneliness leaves me.
I like to be alone,
But not lonely…
The screams are too loud
With no one’s voice to calm them,
And my throat hurts too bad to sing…
Do you have a voice strong enough
To harmonize with my demons,
To lend them a sentimental ring?
That I am afraid
To make this real,
But, in my heart it is…
Maybe I’m not pretending…