it's funny how every time i think the worst is over
you show up and prove me wrong
spit in my face the vulnerability
that got me here in the first place
this cup of coffee is cold from the time spent reminiscing
with my head in shaking hands and the warmth that is missing
from the rooms and the bed that once felt like home
the rooms and the bed in which i am alone
was it real
was it real
was it real
was it real
the blinds stay shut like the door to my heart
since you stole the key and left me in the dark
with the thoughts in my head becoming dreams
in which i tiptoe on a balance beam
then fall into nothing and am left with wondering
was it real
was it real
was it real
was it real
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1 comment:
come here, and i'll make it real for u
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