(no subject)
These things happen broken promises do not matter -- If you relapse just think of it as an opportunity to restart -- All the noise around you, the annoying chatter -- while you're collapsing from a broken-heart -- Can make even the most stern smile's teeth clatter -- for emotional slaps sting both sweet and tart.
There is no such thing as time wasted -- for we know not of what could have been, or could be -- for we live in today, not yesterday or tomorrow. Our memories are links to the past, not outlooks to the future -- whether they are filled with happiness or sorrow -- and I know broken hearts can not be mended with threads and sutures -- for it takes time, but keep in mind -- it moves fast, our lives are short -- almost as though they are borrowed -- so dread if you must -- but remember our emotions and expectations are like bubbles ready to bust -- and you can always grow, to blow some more -- to float away new ones each day -- as long as there's soap in the bottle -- air in your lungs -- emotions will be un-bottled, and cries will come from bloody tongues -- but you can always remember the way the soap tasted.
I could go on -- I could say more -- could just ramble away -- but I'm trying to be slightly indirect here.
I just hope she gets it -- for I truly do care, unfortunately I just can't be there -- damn.
This pain it spreads like a virus -- and leaves me feeling helpless. Hugs are so much better than razors and sharp objects -- I would swallow them all to protect her.
There is no such thing as time wasted -- for we know not of what could have been, or could be -- for we live in today, not yesterday or tomorrow. Our memories are links to the past, not outlooks to the future -- whether they are filled with happiness or sorrow -- and I know broken hearts can not be mended with threads and sutures -- for it takes time, but keep in mind -- it moves fast, our lives are short -- almost as though they are borrowed -- so dread if you must -- but remember our emotions and expectations are like bubbles ready to bust -- and you can always grow, to blow some more -- to float away new ones each day -- as long as there's soap in the bottle -- air in your lungs -- emotions will be un-bottled, and cries will come from bloody tongues -- but you can always remember the way the soap tasted.
I could go on -- I could say more -- could just ramble away -- but I'm trying to be slightly indirect here.
I just hope she gets it -- for I truly do care, unfortunately I just can't be there -- damn.
This pain it spreads like a virus -- and leaves me feeling helpless. Hugs are so much better than razors and sharp objects -- I would swallow them all to protect her.