How to Unlove you ? Cause you're the only thing I feel . I feel the stab your drunk breath did ; I feel the pain that touches my palm when I touch your shirt and reaches to my spine real quick , like a volcano rushing down the thirty three bones. I feel the bubbles in my champagne expanding and engulfing me , leaving my dirtier love on the floor .
The salty sun burns down my eyelashes when I try to find you amidst the dark , gloomy clouds . You loved me at all the right places in all the right ways . I didn't have the slightest idea of what love will do to me , when you held me too close , borrowing breathes from my lungs . How I said I loved you and you replied with a smile too forced , " Labels ruin everything " . You never understood the concept of melancholy like I did , you said writers stop writing when they're in love , and they start writing again when they're left a jar containing broken pieces of their heart and mind , producing a sound too loud for the pen and too faint for the world.
The vapours I exhale clog like winter morning fogs and leave me choking . You smile steadily , making rings out of the smoke from your cigarette . I try to walk up to you , but you tell me stop , saying that I'll regret being this close to you , for all you knew was how to print the love on body and mind , sadly you never told me about an eraser for them .
I write too much about the things that reside on my pillow at three in the morning slowly , very slowly stabbing my spine . You told writing is like putting water on the wires , to feel the pain , the tender ache , as a current , a devastating current . The memory of you telling me little things about world , makes letting go a little more tougher . The world has always worked on this rule ; Run after those who run further away .
I share my love like a fable , and the stars sing it back to me . Your eyes Dark Marble Black hole Brownstone staring back at me , ripping off my heart in two equal parts making it capable of loving you with double passion . I agreed instantly when you said , sliding a finger down my neck ; that I ignite the fire inside you , cause all you did was to burn me into ashes and mix it well with those in your ashtray . My mouth tastes of death every morning after I Stand in front of you looking like melancholy , thinking of no better example , a leaving , breathing flesh of desolation . I choose to feel anything over nothing .
"Would you stay a little more ?" "I need to leave . "