I fall apart like the withering petals of the neglected flowers

you had once left on my kitchen counter

And my heart seems to sink into a liquid pool of fascination

every time I think about the perpetual enchantment

you once had with the world

The way you read my mind like my thoughts were quicksand

slipping away faster than I could fathom to think of

And you could always look at me

in a room filled with a hundred people

 and somehow know I was the only one gasping for air


I wanted every bit of you,


I needed your attention like those delusional people

who think the voices in the head are meant to save them,

When the biggest horror always seems to lie in themselves

They say you can feel a certain kind of passion

when it's strong enough to burn holes in your heart

But all I have seemed to do is leave mere skid marks in your memories


I guess I'm foolish.


Foolish to wonder if the fickle capacity of your brain

still has some occupancy

for a few silly thoughts of me

But I guess now and then my sadistic personality will always

find a degree of pleasure in entertaining the idea of you.

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