Years Past Majestic

A still sort of wondering, waiting for it all to finish. A picture of regret on the wall
Or a series of moments strung together so I don’t want to burn at the thought of you,
At the love so violent, it scarred.

Perhaps you should just give yourself to him if you were so perfectly crafted for his enjoyment -
Don’t you owe him your skin, he deserves your blood -
It had no use with you anyway.

In position for the play to begin, A portrait of the world constructed in dirty pink sheets.
A guilty sort of chaos, when the curtains close and you’re stuck inside the facade,

What do you really look like?
Pretending to be real doesn’t make you any less fake. As you hold onto every wordless feeling
And the words begin losing meaning. We don’t look so similar anymore. Now they’re following you and you've lost track of the steps.

I, a sip of espresso and you were the milk - diluting me enough, as that’s how you liked it.
Recognise my presence but don’t feel it chill through your bones.

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