I’m lovesick and I’m sick of love,
Do you feel it too, do you feel me in your veins,
the way you’ve made a home out of my rotten brain?
It has never felt flowers before (not to say you are a flower when you are so much more)
But this is close enough, you are close and my teeth are soft.
My words have lost their bite, my claws cannot hurt you,
how did this come to be?
Out of ruin, out of ash, out of nothing except something completely else?
Now you’re taking over my life, bringing me back to life, making me fight for it
I would die for you and for someone on the street,
but you’re making me want to live so long that I keep this secret alive
Like a fluttering thing in my rib cage, no, not a heart,
it is a seedling, it is a tiny flower. It is a small, small bird
but it is out of the egg now and it will fight to stay alive,
fight to hear your voice, fight to hear everything you say, and more that you don’t.
Will you say it please,
the words want out, so will you cede,
will you let them out?
Make the chains around my neck fall away
so the lock turns into whatever locks are when they are not making things harder?
Don’t you want to hear the words too? I know you do
but tell me it is just as much as I do,
tell me you’re lovesick and sick of love too
And say it like you asked me the first time if I was alive,
and it was the first time I was asked if I was alive
after a gaping maw of void where I floated as a ghost.
Image credits.
Musings of An Insomniac 