the burning in my lungs hurts less than
the burning in my chest.
and the burning in my throat hurts less
than the burning of my eyes.
and the daze of the narcotics is less
painful than waking up from the
spell you had me under.
I was willing to conquer the world with you,
and I was willing to give you my heart, my time,
and my love,
but--there's always a but--
you want her.
and here I go again, getting my damn
heart broken and relentlessly stomped on.
Share This Poem