I still think about you
But do you too?
When Laying at night
With everything dark in sight
Counting the ceiling fan blades
As your awakeness don't fades
Yet staring at nothing to see
Do you still think about me?

And everytime I look at those corridors
My eyes try to find yours
And when they finally capture you
I wonder if you miss us
As all the time, I so painfully do.

Of all the worlds
I create,
none of them
miss you
miss you

I think of you  
In the days we loved.  

When we shimmered with a brilliance  
That made the sun blush.  
And we didn't care or fear  
If we would burn out,  
As long as we spun  
To glorious ash together.  

Take us then and lock us away.  
Pluck those short days  
From the script  
And write us  
No more.  
Let us be each other's  
First songs and swan songs-  
And we would be happy.  
To never know another soul  
The way we know each other,  
And we would be content.  

The truth of first loves,  
Kept safe from the wisdom  
And cowardice of age,  
That teaches us to be cautious  
With our hearts  
Reluctant in our affections.  

But now…now the world  
Would ruin us.  
Obsession weakened,  
Diluted by the mundane,  
The tediousness of days  
That tempers us from  
What we were  
To what we are;  
And shows us to be  
Dim reflections of ourselves.  

So I keep you treasured away  
In my recesses,  
In the days we loved-  
Where time cannot strip away  
Nor circumstance impose  
Its penalties.  
Where you still burn  
With reckless abandon,  
So as to consume me completely.  

But this time  
I will turn to ash  
Alone.

I want you to see this
There's a façade kind of bliss
That in my mind's eye
It sure felt like heaven's kiss.

You want me to see this
Play a part in your petty dreams
Let myself get lost in this shame abyss
Be seduced by your trysts.

If you wanted me to see this
How come we were a miss
And how come your new love's still
An old reminisce
Of memories and an angry's cat
Hiss?

I wanted you to see this
Maybe in the end
We were simply meant
To be each other's deadly miss.

it disgusts me how often i think of you
i would jump off bridges
off trains
off skyscrapers
to see you in the stinging water
in the cold whip of the wind
in the clouds in the sky
your name would be the last sound that leaves my lips
because i never got to say it again
because i said it a handful of times and life decided that was enough
it wasn't.
no, i don't think of you often at all,
because often implies there is an end and a beginning,
but there is no pause when it comes to you
for
you are the beginning,
and you were the end.