Love is cruel, and always ends
Whether sister, mother, father, brother, lover or friend.
Love is callous, and always blind
It’s mute and deaf,
Apathy combined.
It fears what it does not know
And rarely does it show,
what needs to be said.
It fogs your mind, and it clogs your head.
But when the tide comes in
And the day does end,
Just know that your sister, mother, father, brother, lover or friend
Will be there when the sun does set.
And although love ends, it isn’t over,
Yet.
One of those relationships that feels the same as burning your tongue on something too hot. You won’t enjoy the rest of the meal.
I remember summer days,
that merged into the night,
when we would sit and reminisce
until the morning light.
But that was way back then,
and now you’re not around.
I just wonder if you’re happy with the new life that you’ve found?
‘Cause when you’re not here,
I’m not sure I like mine.
But if ever you did question it, of course, I’d say I’m fine.
If I’m honest,
I’ve been longing for the past.
When we’d get drunk all by ourselves,
Oh, time just moves too fast.
But we were self-assured,
Of course we were naive.
With hundreds of ambitions,
(None of which did we achieve)
But now I’m older,
And my goals have blown away.
And I’m not too sure my youth would like the man I am today.
I guess I’ll go back out,
I’ll try to reign the wind.
Maybe then I will find the spark, and so life can begin.
And now I see me dreams,
Being dangled on a kite.
I’ll do my best to catch the string, (and lord knows that I might…)
Anonymous asked: Is your icon picture you, and if not, could you post a picture of yourself? :D
It isn’t. And I would, but it’d defeat the object of this blog being anonymous. Sorry :)
I’ve been incredibly busy with drawing and guitar playing, with a bit of work on the side, of course.
Summer has passed, and the rain begins to fall.
As the darker nights come creeping in.
Nature’s knocking on my window,
Just begging to come in.
My bed seems awfully lonely,
When your presence isn’t here.
Like a church that has no prayer mats,
Or some dirt, with gold veneer.
The trees are growing restless,
And so their leaves are turning red.
Craving to be noticed,
But soon they’ll all be dead.
And now they are all dropping,
In an attempt to make me see.
But I’ll just trawl my feet right through them,
With slight disdain and apathy.
It’s the creak in the stairs
When you come home far too late.
The rush of blood to your head
When you feel you’ve succumbed to fate.
You’re supposedly speaking
Though I don’t mean to be rude,
I just can’t understand
So please don’t let me be misconstrued
When I tell you that
You’re just saying what I want to hear
Because, to be honest,
That’s my single greatest fear.
So how about we throw away the pretentious cliche?
“Well, at the end of the day. We might be all okay?” I hear you say.
I’m afraid my dear, it just doesn’t look that way.
i feel lonely tonight.
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