Your head is a funny place to be
It’s somewhere in between violent
and a child on Christmas eve
Your eyes aren't much different
like a sea of beauty and undeserved agony
In which I occasionally lose yours truly
your hands shape your thoughts
scars crawling the flesh where some got caught
and I wonder what it may be like to race over the rough patches of your mind
smoothing out all the raised lines
where a drunken pain wrapped its arms around your skin
refusing to release until it became your kin
we were a tragedy destined to end badly
a beautiful let down of sorts
and when it came time to release our deceit
you left madly
leaving us both to sit in quarts
of burning whiskey sloshing from our throat to our feet
tell me who this cures
my thoughts still ignite with yours
the remedy we use to self medicate only ensures
our life we shared was not suitable for either of us
maybe one day this becomes a bit clearer for you to see
So you too may heal
from a love never meant
to be