I just changed the definition of what it meant to live.
Because if the World After is void of everything you are
Why would anyone want to dwell in that sort of life
A crude, bastard sketch of what reality could be?
A simple look destroyed me, and left me wanting.
The grievous blinks came in distant intervals of relief
But you still ignited my love, you painted my heart
With the brushstrokes of your very existence.
You were
Beautifully flawed, imperfectly pure
The whole of Heaven and Hell.
An angel with painful eyes
A femme fatale with sunset smiles
A contradiction and cliché.
Just like me.
I often claim to love you in past, present and future, but how,
When I am selfish, desperate, pitiful in my need for you?
I cannot release my anger in the way you were released.
I've not forgiven you for causing pain, Before and After
I've not forgotten you hurt me, and I hurt you back.
What kind of thing is this then, that I hate as much as I love?
I never told you what I meant to say, but I hoped you guessed.
Today, I placed dandelions upon your grave and didn't leave my name.
But you knew who they was from.
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