missing arcs

People are only interested in the things they can relate to, the things we pity, ourselves. We personalize everything. We revolve around the dark side of the hill, the broken lines. We are narcissist we are masochists.

I live off secondary drives.

She walked through the front door of my best friends apartment, i couldnt move, think, breathe, or look at her for that matter. My body was floating around the room all by itself. An hour had passed and she was gone before i knew it. I wish i said hello.

You couldnt keep me away from you if you tried. You were perfect. I never loved anything more.

let go.

I knew you, i always knew you. Weve always been parallel in one way or another. Its funny how we would meet again when we did. I was silent, she was silent, so what better time?

Wet grass, cold air, this was the first time i ever laid lips on you, being scrutinized by the our main source of energy. I felt it, you were all there, i think. 

taciturnity.

 I should have just told you i loved you right then and there. I can never face anything.

Shes still not existent 

FInally my mouth uttered its garbage again, occupying the cracks in your atmosphere. I could talk to you all day, and i did. Your mindless smoke flavored words echoing off my popcorn ceilings. I could kiss you all day, and i did.I could keep this going forever.

I still loved her. Shes is finally audible.

 

Patterns

 I am egotistic.

i loved her, but i missed you.

waves kept dragging you farther and farther away from me, but i guess that was my fault.

Reviews

[trainwreck]

This is very intense. The poetry flow was a little hard for me to catch at first. But I do like it. It sounds desperate. In fact, its not just desperate, its grasping (at least thats the way I felt it).
I love the way the despair works. Its a good work.