I’m a mess. I said to myself. Alcohol and drugs grow up in my veins.
But it’s the same for you. And I wish. I could save you from me.
But you’re a sinking soul. And I got you trapped up in my body.
Now it’s not time to regret. When you kiss my lips and you wish you would have another pair to keep going.
I read your face and I wish you weren’t rotten as me. Because I know you’re still innocent.
I can’t feel my face. And this is what they would call agony.
I can only feel my hands getting sleepy. Running all over your body.
I want you to tell me to stop. I would do that for you, if you asked. For us.
But you don’t.
I might blow my brain. I want to stop feeling pain.
Do you feel it? When I bite your skin. Do you want it? Self-unconsciousness.
You’re a mess. When you ask me for more.
Demanding, pleading. I will only follow your rules.
So tell me what to do. The day after.
When you aren’t here anymore. And I’m alone.
Will you call me when you’re alone, too? Will you think of me, too?
I can only apologize. For my sins. But will you?
Let me drown you in my mistakes.
Let me make you feel sorry for that night.
I say to myself I should forget it.
I say to myself not to start again. I say to myself I should stop wishing.
But I can only wish more.
I think. On how much I want to see you.
And when I’m starting to feel this dizziness again.
You’re there. Eyes red.
You don’t know. How much I think of you.
And I wouldn’t call it romantic.
And I wouldn’t call it love.