the icy hold over my world is imagined,the mist clouding my perception but not my path.i'm not hallucinating.just telling myself stories,weaving a deception,a denial.i'm not numb.not blank.not weeping
to ache for what is not mine to have to savour the burn of rejection, without ever offering myself up to it. because i know that its there there is no doubt
you see no one elses faults like you see mine, i wonder why it is.why it can not be the way it was. and yet,i already know the answer.but maybe cannot stomach the truth.