they say that love never dies
could never curl and  bawl and cry
love is the purest of all emotions
even turbulent and torrid
it is pure, never horrid

but I'm tired of loving you
or seeing your jaw, you finger, your tooth
and feeling a rush of fear
that i will never escape from this anxious pit of unclear
good intentions and impure thoughts
so i do what i am taught

i slog through the love, the lust
the misplaced affections because i need, i must
be graced with one smile, a small glimpse
even if my feelings you already dismissed

i was going to tell you,  don't you know?
i was going to knock my feelings off their petty throne
i thought that maybe if i let it all out
i would not feel a gout
of excitement for the forbidden feelings

that maybe i could stop pealing
in laughter at the smallest thing
when i thought you weren't looking, as i watched you sing
that i would have the control of my buzzing desire
but now i refuse to fan the fire

my friends still egg me on.
Valentines Day is on Saturday, what could go wrong?
I've found that people are great at giving advice
when it wont affect them even once or twice

but they know that you know off my misplaced affection
you see it now in every inflection
she lied and told you behind my back
and then asked me to cut her some slack
when now that tenuous friendship we once had was broken

and i only ask you to give me a token
of admitting your silence
rings out louder
than any no

I hate you for being embarrassed of me
I forgave you for saying I'm beautiful

I hate you for ignoring me
I forgave you for saying I was your number one

I hate you for only looking at the outside of me
I forgave you when you held my hand

I hate you for leaving me
I forgave you for being honest

I hate you for saying you loved her more than you ever loved me
I will never forgive you for that

I can be,
Just by myself.


And yet;

If I could breathe a dream,
It would be the one on your passenger side window.
I traced the veins of my heart
And found you tangled.

As I stood along the path,
I seen the little girl.
She had on a floral dress,
And her hair had flowing curls.

She stood still, all alone,
With a ribbon in her hand.
And above her was a balloon,
tied to it, with a band.

She had fallen away from the crowd,
Just to stand and breathe.
I watched her as she closed her eyes,
And positioned her two feet.

Her hand was held up-right,
To let the balloon dance,
In the wind that would take it further,
If it only got the chance.

After a moment in the silence,
The little girl opened her eyes.
As she done this, she loosened her grip,
And then sent the balloon to the skies.

I considered this symbolic,
And thought of you as my balloon.
Who had danced off with the wind,
And left me way too soon.

Somewhere, in the country,
silence fills the air.
The sun shines down above
the meagre crowd you'll find there.

I imagine you stand amongst them,
willingly taking part,
in searching for the person
you once knew off by heart.

Somewhere, in the city,
everyone else continues on.
The noise fills the air,
nothing's feeling wrong.

I imagine you in your window pane,
looking out across them all.
Asking yourself over and over,
why she won't answer your call.

Somewhere, in your heart,
the blood it rushes thin.
Although you feel it inside,
it doesn't show upon your skin.

I imagine you in the evening,
out strolling with a slow pace.
But, despite this, you can't breathe
with your quickening heart race.

Somewhere, in the oceans,
the currents continue to flow.
The skies turn to darkness,
and the stars begin to glow.

I imagine you in the distance,
giving up, and letting go.
Finally walking away,
from the girl you used to know.

It was a waste of time,
so I stopped doing it.
Now I can't do it at all,
no matter how much
I feel like I should.
I stopped,
and now I can't.
Plain and simple
as pain itself.

What scares me the most?
The moment you let go.