Everything was slightly blued
Her eyes
Her hair
And now it is a colour of my mood
She was the sexiest thing around and she didn\'t need to be nude
She was witty grumpy kind of rude
The moment she entered the room i knew i was screwed
I wrote hundreds of lines to get her out of my head
Thousands of times i reminded myself about the words she said
Spent days pretending she isn\'t perfect
And yet...
I painfuly know she is
And still she sits upon the thorne of my heart
Who would have thought that emptiness would be so hard
To carry around
She owns my poetry
Everything i write is either
For her
About her
Or a distraction from a memory of her
And i wouldn\'t have it any other way
And so day by day
Line by line
I learn how to live with the fact she isn\'t mine
What a hopeless endeavor
I am sentenced to be sad forever
Not by her but my own unwillingness to let her go
By inability to buy a ticket for a different show
And just like that i find myself
Wishing for the relief from suffering i won\'t allow to end
I typed out so many masseges
And never onece did i hit the fucking send
Anyway what would be the point
Better to roll another joint
And write another poem
About how she left my heart broken
With scars on it open
And hope for a future stolen
And be amused by the absurdity of it all
She was a sinful miricle i never even hoped for
And now sadness runs through my core
From that everlasting war
Between what i want
And what i know to be true
The circle is now clomplete
Now you know why i am blue