I lay another night awake, thinking, feeling.
Wondering about what we could have been and never will be.
I lay awake after sleeping all day long. Sunlight hurts. I can only think at night.
I lock myself away in this artificial life I borrow form shadows.
And jet I say I am fine.
I can’t sleep, all I do is eat. No idea seems to make sense anymore.
Everything is unsent texts and phantom phone calls.
Even I lurch in shadows now. Shadows as dark as the pieces of my heart that are left.
I am the best at being used and calling it love. For ego, for loneliness, to prove something.
I am a punching bag for myself and others. I live for the nostalgia of things that haven’t and will never happen.
Create characters on the base of people you tell yourself love you.
Because he always loved something more then he loved you. Because you always loved him more than you loved yourself.
So, you despair and self-destruct, so you day dream at night wanting to drift off to sleep and dream of a yo