BOO hoo

What hurts the most is not the feeling
of past silhouetting thoughts that reveal the prevailing lasting of the future hoped,

Nope,

What hurts the most is not the mistakes,
2people in their dreams to shatter the reality awake,
Nor the strangulation of love lay flat, on the ceiling, which concludes the.memories of the moment up above.

What hurts the most is not the memories now tainted for the love both shared that seem wasted, the people who are not us affected in the way we created light,

To have the essence now discarded, blamed and tainted, by the thoughts now an army,
Not in our lifetime,
No life and time, nor precious likes lift on my timeline, the insidious blasphemy we decriminalised to a size palatable to use as an infectious sterilised sign that all had been lost. Before and blissfully seeking still.

What hurts the most is not the numbness, the blaming until it's only stillness to philosophise the right wing yet fly with me im left handed, whilst seeing it.evaporate,
over infinite time.

What hurts is not the life or the creation and sharing that had born discussion of man and wife,
Not the dream of Andromeda or how that dream has sank or been left alone in flight.

What hurts is not the equal trying, the promise of perhaps we can sustain it and believe its until death or until dying,
Not the manic truth of lust, not the exact moment we became us.

No

What hurts the most is the fact.
There is no more, there is no back,
What hurts the most hurts so true,
I seem to be, unknown and new.
And the tears can roll, as you believe it true.