Sunday, 9 August 2015

Writers aren't meant to swim

We were born on dark nights when the sky was streaked purple and blue and the fire in your eyes has never dimmed since. I was a miracle , you were the only one who could break me. Blood never betrays blood and it's all a fucking fantasy and I'm the delusional dimwit that soaked in it all before the last wave I lapped up absolutely drowned me.
You're beautiful but you're a curse.
And I swear I thought I could save every lost soul drowning on every broken ship that feebly attempted to sail through the curse that people like to call life and after all this time that's the one quality under my fingernails I can't quite scrub out with cynicism: naiveté
And even though I was shown over and over
I was nobody's savior
It still hurt to not save you
It still hurt that I was her 2am call and I couldn't cushion her against the waves
Be her lifeboat , her lamp, her raft
I let her  drown
But it burnt most of all to be lied to by your own being
You can only save the drowning while you're afloat
And my bloodstained lungs let me think it was air I was breathing
And not

No comments:

Post a Comment

I would love to hear your opinion, do oblige :3