Love Hurts
Or: When you're not sure whether you've been hitting the Fast Forward or Pause button on your life's remote control for the last 2 years.
By Rudolph LingensPublished 3 years ago • Updated 3 years ago • 1 min read
Photo by Quin Stevenson on Unsplash
It’s all pretend,
Living out a play,
An escape from a life without you,
No time to stop or delay.
-
Filling the hole you left behind,
I don’t go home alone these days,
An escape from a life without you,
One that temporarily numbs the pain.
-
It’s all make believe,
Escapism; distraction.
Though their faces change,
They’re a part of my refusal to acknowledge,
That these ashes –
Are all that’s left of our flame.
-
You've left for good,
But I keep chasing that high,
Anything to avoid the sharp, painful grind,
That relentless stabbing and strangling,
With each morning, as I open my eyes,
You’re still the first thing on my mind.
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