a taste of drunken scenery.
Sweet toxins running into me.
I bring a cigarette to my lips,
a kiss of death, I needed this.
I've been decieved for far too long,
I wear this mask,
and they think me strong.
I wish that I could love you still,
but now I know I never will
And so I return to my flask and cigarette
with a heavy heart and out of breath...
This is an old poem, written when I was 16-17 or something like that. I had almost forgotten about it in the mists of time, but found it again today, and thought I would repost it. I was heartsick when I wrote it. I had been in a relationship with someone I saw some good in, and that I saw potential in, but who constantly disappointed me. At this time I saw sense and realized it was time to cut my losses and just get over it. So I wrote this poem and went outside on my porch and lit a cigarette. I really am a silent drama queen when I think about it, a melancholy goth girl who thrives artistically during hardship.