If I was a song, it would be me

If I was a song, it would be me

There are no letters. There are no emotions. There is no love.

Black is considered the darkest colour of all, my heart has become dark, dark like coal.
I’m not calling you a liar. I’m not calling you a thief. I’m not calling you a ghost.
But your ghost is haunting me, your stealing is killing me and these lies are releasing me.

Many of the moments shared are sweet memories.
Many of the beds shared are not spoken of.
Many of the words I should have uttered are eating me.

White represents the surrendering I am about to commit.
I surrender to myself, I surrender to the universe, I surrender to the karma police.

I can never give the love that is shared amongst the poorest of people in this world.
I can never give the strength that is obtained through protein drinks.
I can never, ever give you me.

As the winds swing between the leafs and the sun curls around the clouds,
I am here standing with nothing but myself.
I have purposely abandoned this idea. The idea of you and me.
For ideas are for idealists and I am but a reality.

Forgive my soul, for I have sinned
Forgive my mind, for I have forgotten.
Forgive me, because it can’t ever be you who will win me.

Blue blood on our hands, warming our skin. I must admit, there isn’t a passion I can resist.
For passion is the deep colour pasted so heavily on my lips.
Passion is the one thing I can never erase, it is what makes my heart drink.
But, drinking is not the answer to everything I’ve forgot.

There are no words. There are no sighs. There is nothing. Nothing you left for you and me.

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