who was I before you?
the trickle of cold grass pricks my fingertips, yet it doesn't pierce - it never will, for poison only wills what it wants to touch - and as I gnaw at a freshly brazen scar - it metamorphoses into rust, tracing down my spine as i lay beside you, and my tongue reaches out before I do, intertwined with a possibility that you bite it, and so I'd perch upon an apple, watching like eve once did, for alas, I am the devil's advocate. I shall dwell in my own silence, for all is dead as long as I shut my eyes - yet, as I open them once again, you are there; in raw, unhonest, unrequited truth, I watch through a stained glass window of my mind, for you are a reality of what I conjured, through limerance or to cope? is for the heart to know: I never will. and so, the world will move beneath my feet, a kaleidoscope of faces I've longed for, of eyes I once knew, and for mouths I'd wish I fed with my own diligence: me, myself, and I. and I never think of him, for on nights like these, I look at the moon and ask: "who was I before you?" Λγγγγβ¦γγγ.γγ. γβΛγ.γγγγγ . β¦γγγ γΛγγγγ . β β. γγγ.ββ γγΛγγ γγ*γγ γγβ¦γγγ.γγ.γγγβ¦γΛ γγγγβΛγ.Λγγγγγγ.γγ. γβΛγ.γγγγ γγ γγγγ β¦
π all you said was, "hi", and i remembered i loved you











