03/09/2014

My own, my dear

Your tired unfamiliar face, says it all.

My heart is about to break my chest, and my lungs are full of smoke.
My mind feels empty, and yet, my thoughts won't stop.
Neither the questions.
I'm confused, upset, disappointed,  and quite torn apart by the difference between your lies and the pure truth.
Music notes dance on my spine, among the silence of my room. The sound of a candle burning, my heart beats,  my breath.
I light up a cigarette, and get lost in a drag and it's smoke.
Today everything stopped. I'm caught in a time loop for far too long. I'm repeating my mistakes and live them, learning more every time.
I get more disappointed every time.
You lie every time. 
You hide.
You run away.
You're a coward. Hypocrite.
We're both hypocrites.
I'm probably worse than you.
You've cut me with your first lie, and no matter how much I tried to make it heal, the wound would get bigger with every truth you'd hide.
I stopped taking care of it.
It got infected.
I got infected.
With you.
It hurts.
It hurts again.
It burns.
It itches.
It makes me weak and powerless.
It makes me stronger with every tear that hits my cheeks.
All I have left, are beautiful memories torn apart by nightmares and words.
By needs.
By hours spent at work in the noise of a Monday evening.
By unfamiliar faces.
By a real smile and a true hug.
Makes me somehow numb.
Cold.

I don't know you anymore.
You're just another stranger that I used to trust.

Fuck you, my own, my dear.

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