I'm trying to stay in love, it's a place with
A fine name and fine couches, where I smile
And make excuses on how I'm not ready to go home yet
But I spot the weeds in the garden.
Someone woke me up in the middle of a dream
Throwing red onto a rose tinted glass,
I wipe at the stains on my knees but
It just spreads to my skin,
And I used to pretend you were the optomistic one.
My heart is already breaking and you haven't even
Stepped on it yet,
But I see mistakes in the making.
How I can't get over the small shit, how it just sits there
In the back of my head.
And I already see us falling apart
I'm just trying to decide the reason,
Will you grow bored with me, I will maybe tire of your
Endless distractions, how you say insensitive things and
I will want things you will not be able to provide.
Will I meet someone?
He will maybe make art about me,
Not like you do.
And what's the point of dragging this out,
I think about the naive sunglasses we stuck in the holes of the
Naive paper bag covering my head.
You drew a smiley at the lips.
And I can keep telling myself I love you, because today I really do,
But how can I sink into the brevity of a day when
Tomorrow is constantly creeping on our horizon.
It is a silent fog, a deadly gas, heartbreak radiation
Slowly infecting our lungs, killing us more every day
We don't even plan for forever.
So what's the point? The doctor visited me in a dream.
He offered two pills, blue and red.
Is it better to end it now or later, should I
Is it worth it?
And I have disgusting thoughts about the future,
Maybe it's all in my head.
And I'm not fit to love, I will always be asking
More and wondering what's the best. I will get
I wrote a poem for you, half sincerity
Half guilt. I had written so many on that boy before.
And you barely inspired me.
So I sat down and forced my pen down on us.
But it came together nice, smoother than expected
I pulled the shape into our memories, and it was nearly effortless.
I do love you.
I loved you five pages long,
And put a period at the end.
I don't want to accept our decay, because I love you, I do!
I want you to be my muse, not some temporary fix
So I keep writing, ignoring the smell
Our peeling skin.
Maybe it's more than just infection, but a death.
Do you understand? I do not want it.
We are young and goodhearted
But all good things must end.
This is no way to love.
And I know it,
I'm the snake in the garden.