The wounds have been somewhat mended
stitched by thread made of compromise.
The agreement was within myself
What I had to face, was of no comparison as to what I had to let go
How can we deny single moments that ultimately transform into infinite memories?
My world is a cobweb made of the past.

You painted for me pictures
Sun shining with angelic freckles in what to me was my sky.

Future conversations oozed of disguised sarcasm
costumes made of emotions
resentments a cocktail of spoiled love potions
Where was the music to the beat?
Where was the beautiful ending to the movie?
Where was the white sand beneath my feet?
Instead white walls and bathroom stalls painted in blood
Brushes made of collapsed veins
The inspiration… LOVE

In this sour tasting madness
was a sense of contentment
Living inside dreams and imaginary conversations
imaginary life that I spent with you
A handful of single moments was prepared each day into measurement
usually 15 units of prayer and mourn
Feeling injected medicine when I hit
squirting clogged vessels of caskets when I missed
Within the spray of tears I wrote your name

The countless times I spoke your voice
with one ear to your chest
I inhaled your breath

The sweet scent of sleep slowly turned against me
haunted by loose nooses and skyscrapers
My only weapons became adversaries
what once was cool swimming under a lunar moon
Swallowed by suffocating panic
you never came to my rescue



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