deepundergroundpoetry.com
Heaven sent.
You wrap cigarillo papers around your body as if it will keep you warm,
As if the hole opening around your soul will permanently be sewn shut.
You were my very best friend and I thought you'd be there until the end,
But you liked weed better than you liked me and you gave it all up.
I wish that i could go back and tell you to stop,
But you have built cigarette stained barriers around your beating heart,
And cotton balls caked with ash live inside your lungs,
Clinging to them as if were their last breath.
I will always love you more than i loved myself, because you were always there.
You were there for my first heartbreak, and my first kiss.
I can't tell you how much it hurts to see you the way I do.
You are not whole anymore, instead half of a soul.
I don't recognize your face anymore, or even your laugh.
It's like you're wearing my best friend's face, but she is not there.
She lies somewhere beneath, scared and alone.
And I wish on everything I could tell her it's okay to let go.
That booze and pills aren't her only way out.
As if the hole opening around your soul will permanently be sewn shut.
You were my very best friend and I thought you'd be there until the end,
But you liked weed better than you liked me and you gave it all up.
I wish that i could go back and tell you to stop,
But you have built cigarette stained barriers around your beating heart,
And cotton balls caked with ash live inside your lungs,
Clinging to them as if were their last breath.
I will always love you more than i loved myself, because you were always there.
You were there for my first heartbreak, and my first kiss.
I can't tell you how much it hurts to see you the way I do.
You are not whole anymore, instead half of a soul.
I don't recognize your face anymore, or even your laugh.
It's like you're wearing my best friend's face, but she is not there.
She lies somewhere beneath, scared and alone.
And I wish on everything I could tell her it's okay to let go.
That booze and pills aren't her only way out.
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