Poem Hunter
CS ( / )


Would that I could tell you
Precisely how I feel.
I love to need you
And worship from the wings
Your face is my cross,
And your mind my temple.
This obsession isn't healthy,
But it's not as though I care.
I embrace the consequence
Of my purposeful mistake.
You will never love me,
Of this I'm mostly sure.
This remnant beam of hope
Is bracing my existance.
You keep me afloat
And preserve this wasted life.
I've brought you on myself,
You're both the virus and the cure,
A delicate equilibrum.
A sea of purgatorial grey.
I slip into the cool
And never feel a thing.
The waves wash me over,
My pain drifts away.

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