Daily Archives

September 4, 2009

Writing

There was some love

It’s not your fault you were my first
The blame’s on me, my cross to bear
And though there was hurt, and pain, and grief
Before all this, there was some love.
I’m sorry now, it’s all my fault
I hurt me, I opened the vault
I should have known it’d end in tears
But at least I know, I felt some love.

Writing

I loved it then, I loved it when

Your name on my phone, your texts and calls (Tiny little jolts it gave, the beginning of my fall)

The strange old musky scent, unique to your flat (Sanitizer? Detergent? Such a weird thing to miss)

Our lazy Sunday afternoons (The time we wasted, not wasted time)

Your hand in mine in the cinema (Now cold and alone, I hold my own)

When you hold my hand tight so I won’t tickle you (You’re not holding me now, but I won’t anymore)

When you demand for my hand across the table (I refused, I rejected, I would never again)

When you kiss any part of me that’s closest to you (So simple, so sweet, I loved it then)

Our arms and legs entwined in a comfy, entangled mess (Now no longer, oh what distress)

Your fingers laced with mine (They are not mine to hold anymore)