I know.
If a heart breaks, and you’re not around to heart it
snap and crumble
into the ground, does it make a sound?
As the distorted fragments of a life
planned out years ahead from distant ‘hellos’, fades
crashes and burns along with your photo. On my bedroom wall.
With every new found glance
with a new found sight I invested in new eyes
to see you, clearly, for what you really are.
I sit and stare, from a distance now at the
passion you share, with another. And another. And another.
All at once then and not at all I fall apart
at the seams, the seams you had sewn, yet it is you who
seems to have the upper hand at this twisted game of
guess who hates who.
Day by day I watch through squinted, heavy eyes of green as
once again you flaunt it. Hunt it. Suck it.
Fuck you. Now I know how love hurts. Strangles the soul until their’s
not a drop left to steal. To take. Yours.
Slowly, yet eager it tears, shreds, manipulates it’s way through the blood,
through the veins,
then finally the soul.
Until there’s nothing left but a hollow, cracking shell of what
I used to be. You did this to me.
And with every bitter brush of skin, passionate kiss and innocent little
fuck
I die a little inside. Smile on the outside.
And now love has it’s death grip on my heart, set there by your misleading fingers
squeezing day
by fucking day
it is you who only has to tug once, and leave me for dead.
Fuck it. Fuck love. Fuck you.
For showing me that love can’t be shared from a distance.
For showing me that I am not worthy of anything special. Anything more
Than you. You claim you love these unaware souls,
yet you have the heart to leave me for dead. To pick up the pieces. Me. Alone.
So I’ll ask you again, punk, if a heart breaks, and no one’s around to heart it
snap and crumble
into the ground, does it make a sound?
I know.
snap and crumble
into the ground, does it make a sound?
As the distorted fragments of a life
planned out years ahead from distant ‘hellos’, fades
crashes and burns along with your photo. On my bedroom wall.
With every new found glance
with a new found sight I invested in new eyes
to see you, clearly, for what you really are.
I sit and stare, from a distance now at the
passion you share, with another. And another. And another.
All at once then and not at all I fall apart
at the seams, the seams you had sewn, yet it is you who
seems to have the upper hand at this twisted game of
guess who hates who.
Day by day I watch through squinted, heavy eyes of green as
once again you flaunt it. Hunt it. Suck it.
Fuck you. Now I know how love hurts. Strangles the soul until their’s
not a drop left to steal. To take. Yours.
Slowly, yet eager it tears, shreds, manipulates it’s way through the blood,
through the veins,
then finally the soul.
Until there’s nothing left but a hollow, cracking shell of what
I used to be. You did this to me.
And with every bitter brush of skin, passionate kiss and innocent little
fuck
I die a little inside. Smile on the outside.
And now love has it’s death grip on my heart, set there by your misleading fingers
squeezing day
by fucking day
it is you who only has to tug once, and leave me for dead.
Fuck it. Fuck love. Fuck you.
For showing me that love can’t be shared from a distance.
For showing me that I am not worthy of anything special. Anything more
Than you. You claim you love these unaware souls,
yet you have the heart to leave me for dead. To pick up the pieces. Me. Alone.
So I’ll ask you again, punk, if a heart breaks, and no one’s around to heart it
snap and crumble
into the ground, does it make a sound?
I know.