after all these days...
It’s the feeling of suffocation mid-way
where you know you’ll die eventually but you struggle anyway.
I’m not suppose to pay attention
to what ever it is that concerns you,
because there should only be one thing, that I need.
So why am I yearning for you now,
why do I see you on the other end
Of my blurry vision,
crescent eyes and warm gaze.
maybe I’ve had enough
of the
What if’s,
and the what could haves,
and the fairytale-like expectations formed from
heaps of glittering madness.
Who was he, how was he, what was he?
Who could you be?
What should you be?
And how do we be
the inexpensive dupe,
the low maintenance replacement,
the non-toxic substitute;
that I needed for a change?
Who are we?