Ready to die-
Looking for my reason to ask you for yours.
I fall into this
Of spoken silence
As i sit on my sheets like The Thinker,
Thinking of you.
And outwardly glowing, but
Inwardly hating every bit of you.
Next day, I’m tempted to take your hand
And lead you down paths that you were too scared to take
To show you the white roses glistening with dewdrops,
To show you the moments you missed by refusing to follow me.
But Pride ties down my hands,
And the kiss I’d part with
Is replaced by salty words
As we leave with a diss.
And it’s somehow disappointingly satisfying
To get my revenge on you with intentional pain
In the way that you don’t try to hurt me.
Even roses have thorns.