deepundergroundpoetry.com
Death of a Heart
Death of a Heart
Here’s the thing, it bothers me that we aren’t friends anymore. The promises you made that you never want to lose me don’t matter anymore
We don’t talk as much as we used to or hang out if at all
Furthermore
I notice us not noticing each other as we walk in the same direction, what used to be a beautiful spring lily is now a Venus fly trap and what was once there is nomore, consumed by pride and ego but I guess some way or another we both had to grow up you know
Funny thing about growing up though
We stack more piles of days every day, more months every month, a year each year and take them everywhere we go
But in real life I don’t think I've grown much since I met you.
If I had grown I would know an end if I felt one
I would know trouble if I ran into some
I would know why you and I don't work and stop thinking about how it was, how it should be and where it all went wrong and stop asking myself questions like what? Why? And how come?
If I had grown at all I'd know that you and I only ever existed in my head.
I'm white matter, you're grey matter or the other way around? No matter at the end it wont matter cause you and I don’t matter.
We don’t matter in the grand scheme of things, whether we end up together is insignificant to the kind of finality the world plans to bring.
If I had grown up at all sweetheart, I'd know to stop calling you sweetheart and sending little hearts everytime we chat
I'd know to stop writing so damn much about you cause its these things that drag me along to think and believe there might still be a chance beyond all logic but my baby heart doesn’t understand that
My baby heart doesn't get logic, to him 1 + 1 is not 2, it's us.
To him 2 - 1 can't because one can't leave without the other that's us.
My heart pumps suicide into my bloodstream 72 times a minute
it's genocide to my limit
because one can only bandage scarred bandages so many times before they've had it.
so I look at him struggling to climb up that window just so he can fall head first into the pavement my only hope is this time maybe he doesn't make it
Here’s the thing, it bothers me that we aren’t friends anymore. The promises you made that you never want to lose me don’t matter anymore
We don’t talk as much as we used to or hang out if at all
Furthermore
I notice us not noticing each other as we walk in the same direction, what used to be a beautiful spring lily is now a Venus fly trap and what was once there is nomore, consumed by pride and ego but I guess some way or another we both had to grow up you know
Funny thing about growing up though
We stack more piles of days every day, more months every month, a year each year and take them everywhere we go
But in real life I don’t think I've grown much since I met you.
If I had grown I would know an end if I felt one
I would know trouble if I ran into some
I would know why you and I don't work and stop thinking about how it was, how it should be and where it all went wrong and stop asking myself questions like what? Why? And how come?
If I had grown at all I'd know that you and I only ever existed in my head.
I'm white matter, you're grey matter or the other way around? No matter at the end it wont matter cause you and I don’t matter.
We don’t matter in the grand scheme of things, whether we end up together is insignificant to the kind of finality the world plans to bring.
If I had grown up at all sweetheart, I'd know to stop calling you sweetheart and sending little hearts everytime we chat
I'd know to stop writing so damn much about you cause its these things that drag me along to think and believe there might still be a chance beyond all logic but my baby heart doesn’t understand that
My baby heart doesn't get logic, to him 1 + 1 is not 2, it's us.
To him 2 - 1 can't because one can't leave without the other that's us.
My heart pumps suicide into my bloodstream 72 times a minute
it's genocide to my limit
because one can only bandage scarred bandages so many times before they've had it.
so I look at him struggling to climb up that window just so he can fall head first into the pavement my only hope is this time maybe he doesn't make it
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 606
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.