I prayed for you to love me,
but turns out god had a much bigger plan and made me write a book
just about our story. . .
Oh, I abused my own heart
by choosing a fantasy and ignoring certain reality.
just wounds all over my skin,
and there I go holding my drained face;
pain turned numb feeling absolutely nothing.
What a feeling to feel, than to feel everything.
I was once a trophy, now forgotten change left on the floor.
waiting for someone to maybe want me. . . Once more.
And god, we were black and blue and I sat at the door waiting for us to heal but over time it all just started to reveal that maybe we were never real —
It was all hopeful to hopeless in the end, begging for just more time.
I was too much and you were never enough
&
till death do us part
to ripping eachother apart.
I ran away from you
to run back to me.
my love was written in pen,
yours all but written in pencil.
It all might be erased but in certain sunlight . . .
I can see the indents of your old words. . .
With just some time left
I have learned to not take your words. . .
to heart.