It takes a least two bottles of wine before I feel anything now,
stupidly crying changes nothing, you still not here.
I went looking for something to let me see you again,
But it was all bright lights and twisting shapes and you are still gone -
And me disappearing into looking for you.
If this is what it feels like to have a broken heart, I hate it.
A stupid way to play with words, it beating through the hurt,
Not broken, but broken all the same and nothing makes sense anymore
But the flying away to a place that never existed to begin with -
I wish I could find where you are and live in it.
This was always what I did before, I've reason now,
Never needed the excuses, but they have proved useful.
Hurting myself is incidental, I would tear the heart from the world
And burn everything to blackened ash to have you here -
I would end it rather than be in it without you.
It is impotent, this determined rage, no chemical can restore you.
No deed so exquisite and perfectly terrible that i can trade
And no one to trade with, which was always the case anyway.
I will take forgetting and long numb days of drowning in oblivion -
It is better than all this pointlessly grieving.