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At my weakest I find you comforting.
I let you tell your lies.
I let you believe that I trust in you.
But the truth is in your eyes.
I say what you wish to hear.
Teetering on the brink of insanity.
But at night it hits me,
Like some catastrophic calamity.
My memories playback in my mind.
Haunting me with they're presence.
And through all of this bullshit,
You'd thought I'd learned my lesson.
So it must be the simple fact,
That this is no mere fascination.
More so that you're a drug,
And you are my addiction.
I keep playing your game,
Knowing it will never stop.
And I grow weary of it all,
Sooner or later I will drop.
I know you sense the end.
I know you feel the finish.
And eventually I'll give up.
These feelings are beginning to diminish.
If you at all cared,
Then you wouldn't pull this shit.
You would be anxious to learn,
Instead of letting me fall into this pit.
But I have to say the truth.
And that is I love you.
If it were a lie I wouldn't be here,
So it must be true.
| Good description, I like how you described the weakness. The words flow through the single feeling, weakness is actually what we make of it, and yet your poem sounds like a curse a curse that could ultimately bring forth an end. I like it because it brings a tear to my eye.||| Posted on 2010-09-15 00:00:00 | by 13thprotector | [ Reply to This ] |