Toulouse. My muse of late.
'One fine day, in the middle of a dream, we'll fall asleep in it'
Enjoy. (Disclaimer –not mine.)
*!*
Oh Christian, will you ever be the same?
You've not spoken for weeks and I've started to feel awkward in your silences. My attempts at comforting you no longer have any point or impact and are now barely words to fill the moments, minutes and hours of the days.
Everyday I come to you and I see the same thing; a few more green bottles on the floor, a few more tears wet on your cheeks, a few more traces of sugar on your lips and not a word spoken. Your eyes forever look into nothingness; avoiding me, avoiding the sunlight, the moonlight and even the bottle that hangs loosely in your hands.
I feel your broken eyes against my heart, painful and piercing; so full of agony and yet so empty at the same time. Broken, bottomless and empty. The lights that used to burn so brightly inside them have gone out, the innocence seems to have left without a trace and the love...I used to believe it was still there, strong as ever, hidden behind the broken walls. But now I know that it's barely in a heartbeat, it's shine slowly dimming away and giving in to the grief.
Your eyes are empty nowadays, containing only droplets of tears you've yet to cry.
She never saw your eyes shatter; she left on her way to heaven before your heart finally broke. But I saw it all.
I watched, in a field of white and red, the moment your eyes dulled. It was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen; that is what hurts me nowadays. Not my ruined legs, not my addictions, not my depressions, not the destroyed ideals, not my lack of love, but you. The tragic memory of you I'll always have; when your eyes lost their sparkle and filled with tears, when you kissed her one last time, when you cradled her long after she had died. And most of all when your voice let out a wrenching scream.
Oh Christian, how it aches. I ache each day just as you do. It is a horrible hollow feeling in my chest, which makes me want to cry just like you. But I never find the tears. Christian, I wish for you to smile again, I don't think I could bare to see you ruin yourself.
She is gone, fate brought you two together and then pulled you apart and it can always pull you back together again in time. In time Christian, but you have no patience or concept or warmth towards time now. I can tell every morning when you wake up, you hope that maybe the day will bring your own end and you become violent when it doesn't.
I've cleaned your blood from the floor and your wrists too many times, Christian.
Can you not even try to move on? Or perhaps fill yourself with the good memories of her? You and I, Christian we could sit awhile each day and we could remember her together in the forms she was to us – she as your lover, she as my dream. How we could remember her, Christian.
How we could remember her.
'One fine day, in the middle of a dream, we'll fall asleep in it'
Enjoy. (Disclaimer –not mine.)
*!*
Oh Christian, will you ever be the same?
You've not spoken for weeks and I've started to feel awkward in your silences. My attempts at comforting you no longer have any point or impact and are now barely words to fill the moments, minutes and hours of the days.
Everyday I come to you and I see the same thing; a few more green bottles on the floor, a few more tears wet on your cheeks, a few more traces of sugar on your lips and not a word spoken. Your eyes forever look into nothingness; avoiding me, avoiding the sunlight, the moonlight and even the bottle that hangs loosely in your hands.
I feel your broken eyes against my heart, painful and piercing; so full of agony and yet so empty at the same time. Broken, bottomless and empty. The lights that used to burn so brightly inside them have gone out, the innocence seems to have left without a trace and the love...I used to believe it was still there, strong as ever, hidden behind the broken walls. But now I know that it's barely in a heartbeat, it's shine slowly dimming away and giving in to the grief.
Your eyes are empty nowadays, containing only droplets of tears you've yet to cry.
She never saw your eyes shatter; she left on her way to heaven before your heart finally broke. But I saw it all.
I watched, in a field of white and red, the moment your eyes dulled. It was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen; that is what hurts me nowadays. Not my ruined legs, not my addictions, not my depressions, not the destroyed ideals, not my lack of love, but you. The tragic memory of you I'll always have; when your eyes lost their sparkle and filled with tears, when you kissed her one last time, when you cradled her long after she had died. And most of all when your voice let out a wrenching scream.
Oh Christian, how it aches. I ache each day just as you do. It is a horrible hollow feeling in my chest, which makes me want to cry just like you. But I never find the tears. Christian, I wish for you to smile again, I don't think I could bare to see you ruin yourself.
She is gone, fate brought you two together and then pulled you apart and it can always pull you back together again in time. In time Christian, but you have no patience or concept or warmth towards time now. I can tell every morning when you wake up, you hope that maybe the day will bring your own end and you become violent when it doesn't.
I've cleaned your blood from the floor and your wrists too many times, Christian.
Can you not even try to move on? Or perhaps fill yourself with the good memories of her? You and I, Christian we could sit awhile each day and we could remember her together in the forms she was to us – she as your lover, she as my dream. How we could remember her, Christian.
How we could remember her.