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Cheeks a shade of electric crimson,
Cut with a sharp line,
Like a New Romantic,
Looking for a love,
In these modern times,
You blow clouds of smoke,
At the open window,
Consumed by thoughts,
Of your tormentor.

You live on the smallest of signs,
It takes a lot to love him,
And you know,
That you can’t be bothered anymore,
Throwing on your sequined jacket,
Heading out the door,
You cast another look at the phone,
Just a look of love,
At an object which now represents,
All the pain of loving him.

Lost in a medley of tunes,
And the loud laughter of your people,
You’re falling into a sinkhole of memories,
You need the ecstasy and tragedy,
That comes with being near him,
Sip your drink and give them a smile,
Show them the perfect made-up exterior,
As your soul disappears piece by piece,
Into the past.

About Us.

You are the wilting crimson roses on my table,
Rotting, losing their beauty day by day,
As I stare at them with sorrow,
Wishing to preserve what will be lost.

I will always remember that evening,
When you sang those words to me,
‘You’re out of touch, I’m out of time,
But I’m out of my head when you’re not around’.

Softly, the disco lights turning blindingly around us,
You said that you missed this,
And I said that I did too,
But it was a lie.

I could not tell you,
That I could not live without it,
That this second beginning,
Gave me back my vitality.

Careful what you wish for,
As it becomes more painful by the day,
When I realize how little you care,
And how obsessed I’ve become.

Just A Look.

Look at me,
I’m the ice tea that will,
Quench your thirst on a hot summer’s night.

Look at me,
I’m made of a hundred percent pure spirit,
To intoxicate in the red lights of a bar.

Look at me,
I can be who you want me to be,
Because everything is always just as you want.

Look at me,
Last night’s escapades are still as bright,
As the smoke and lights of the venue.

Look at me,
Can you just imagine us,
Starting it again in the middle of this storm.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
When you can’t even see
Just me.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
If there are others around,
Who you value more.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
Despite the apathy,
Which you harbour.

Why the fuck are you looking at me,
If you know that you couldn’t care less,
About these little occassions.

Coming To An End.

Empty words,
That is what you are to me now.

Unfulfilled promises,
Which I can’t even bear to think about.

A room with a view and your arms,
Are things I need to forget.

Crippled by love,
You used me time after time.

Can’t stop this sinking feeling,
As memories pour through me.

You’re sick in the head,
A mind of deceit and narcissism.

Clutching at thoughts of you,
Before I am strong enough to shut the door.

Don’t change your mind,
As I can’t drown in this again.

Here We Go Again.

On a lilac sky evening like this,
It’s a shame to think about you.
When the first morning wind hits my eyes,
It’s pitiful to open them from a dream about you.

We’ve played this game before,
So I already know your moves.
Knowing me and knowing you,
This can go on forever.

As long as I am the one,
Who is persistent and willing.
If only I can endure the humiliation,
Which you continue to send my way.

These funny ways of yours,
Of being dishonest and heartless.
There is nothing I can do,
But try and focus on anything else.

Silence,
Is all I am bound to receive.
Silence,
Is what will heal me from this disease of loving you.

Living the Dream.

Blinds closed and curtains drawn,
You still shut your eyes,
As tightly as you can,
To block out the light.

Your throat aches for water,
Nicotine stains on your fingers,
You begin another day,
Of slaving away for hours,
Without knowing why.

The meds keep you among the living,
Your mind remains full of ideas,
And knowledge many can’t even comprehend.
People can still love you,
Yet you wonder why.

When you can’t give anything in return,
But a snide coldness,
With the occasional tender word,
Because you don’t understand,
Their love for a diseased soul.

What You Fail To See.

If you think I’m innocent,
I can only find it laughable.
If you assume that I know very little,
You can easily be proved wrong.

The stockings, the silk slips,
The love I give,
Is a facade that I have mastered,
To protect myself from the likes of you.

Even if sometimes,
The saccharine side of me,
Escapes from its reigns,
It’s not enough for you to be certain.

It’s all a show,
An adrenaline inducing,
Mind-altering and seductive,
Show.

If you don’t like it,
You can throw chains at me,
On my stage,
But I’ll never put them on.