11.7.11

Boston.

Like pouring sugar on my wine.
You're the addiction of my time.
Feelin' warm on my finger tips.
The best looking thing I ever hit.

Not like I'm about to go anywhere.
But you're looking at other skies.
That one day you'll recognize
Without me.
You'll forget about our history.

Too bad I'm so deep in.
This tangled.
Strangled.
Explosion.

I think about this,
and my guts eat my brain.
I look at you, and I'm crying.
Ask me why, I keep lying.

I'm embarrassed of.
My need for you.

But maybe that's just this frightening love.
You're the skin that pushes the shove
In my mind.
That you're looking at other skies.
Why the fuck am I surprised.

It's a continuum.
You're a pattern of the forgotten sun.
I am a mirror of the memory.
What the fuck, you've forgotten me.






WHAT THE FUCK. YOU NEVER EVEN MADE THE MEMORY.

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