"MY LITTLE PIECE OF .COM"

Sunday, December 8, 2019

the fire inside...

they say he never truly let go once his heart gave a fuck... spent so much time alone he wound up not believing in luv...  it's said he felt something that he could never regain... n he jus couldn't remember how to care ever again... the thumping in his chest was as relentless as his mind goin insane... n the battle within came to be his own thorn scared of the flame... sparking passion in his eyes caused fear to create anxiety as he shut the fuck down... feeling the tenderness in the texture of his ticker pound... some ramble on of how there was only one woman that ever captured his all... n losing the touch crippled him in ways life tended to shrink ever so small... like his world was no bigger than the walls in which he lived... unable to consider any house a home without the chuckle in his rib... ripped from his side like her smile torn from his sights... the chattering spoke of a man condemned as defined... a slave to a woman who turned n walked away... knowing he stood for a cause greater than his own as time became his obsessed pain... solitude being the only source of comfort to ease the emptiness left in his depths... as thoughts lingered in a wandering drift of the memory left... people talk of how the clinging destroyed his happiness to ever awaken from a dream... one in which he fell in to that made it hard for him to breathe... so he slept n dreamt of make beliefs jus to came back to the realization of how she was no good for him at all... silently taking on every day with the loosening of hope in understandings with the gain was a flaw... finding the quiet chill the most prized possession he has ever known... tongues roll out words of how in some ways she'll forever wear a throne... held higher than any other to give him a reason never to open back up... though deep down whispers chant when alone of the desire he forced into a hush... rejecting anyone on another level where trust gives in... yet no one ever heard him tell it but it lived in his grin... half staffed n blowing in the wind... staring off into nowhere wondering if the prisoner in the mirror would come to terms with never again to touch her skin... to evade the sensitivity of her lips embedded in a press... as her nakedness was not her flesh bared as her body was fully dressed... unlike her intent in which lied straight faced as he hung his head... as the tale goes he was jus waiting on the perfect time to lay it all to rest... he had to come up with a way to rid himself of a burden carried through emotional suppression... to rise from a lowered place that holds him to his own damned depression... lost n drained of the power to give to any other for as long as his will is to survive... u can hear the whistle jus before a storm if u listen carefully as it moans of how he hides... afraid to replace the purist irrelevance that took him for a ride... so far gone the comprehension of the situation is ok with the conditions of a solo act redefined..

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