Sometimes I feel broken down into fragments,
future that cannot mend.
I feel myself slipping into a dark void,
into an abyss yesterday created.
I am all grown up now, and mysteries
unravel in the face of reality.
What seemed doomed has gained life,
and buried mistakes have taken a toll on me—
a hard revenge against what we created.
What our hands created—a thing we called ours,
because we partook in making it—
a co-creation that became
a gazette desert of nightmares and hallucinations,
things of a demonic fantasy world.
I now dream of spring fields,
summer chaos,
the ninth of July,
and all we meant when we said we loved each other—
which was all a lie.
I still imagine how you’d knot my tie,
or prepare an apple pie for breakfast.
How we joked we’d die if we weren’t together,
how you’d cry on your bed at night
because I couldn’t be there to cuddle you till morning.
And yet, you hoped everything would be alright.
I was too frail, lost in daydreams,
too blinded by your love.
Your beautiful eyes made me a puppet
when you stared into my soul.
I felt magic all over me.
I felt love.
I got lost in your world of fantasy—
where you held me frozen with your angelic touch,
the melody on your sweet lips.
How could I not see?
How could I fail to see the world through an angle of sanity?
How could I not realize that all was vanity?
The world we created was never meant to be.
How could I not hear
the reverse of the songs we danced to,
the betrayal behind the kiss in the rain?
How could I not realize
we were just living in a fantasy world we created
