Pocket Full Of Lies

I hate fighting with you...

And he sure as hell isn't going to
love me like before.
But there goes my fucked up head,
thinking he meant it more.

When I love you was said,
you know I really meant it;
and when you said it back,
I thought you saw my face lit.

But know my heart has bled,
as I watch the blade all upon my wrist.
Too bad in the end,
we fade to black.

I took what I had loved
and was still able to kill it with a slice.
Now the table's turned
and it's time to roll the dice.

What will happen next?
It kills me to see
you're face in the dark.
What will become of me?

I should've known better,
I was never enough.
I tried to be better,
but you need somebody who
wouldn't be rough,
who'd stop causing you pain
and give you something to gain
from it all.

There I lay,
but I'm not dead yet,
even if that is what
is for the best.

Author's Note

I'm in the middle of a horrid fight with my best friend. I write poetry to let it out. No hate.xx

Reviews

[S. Michael Long]

i think it is a well written poem, but honestly.. (at least for me) i would rather hear about you using words to slice the hearts and wrists of your readers, than read about how you got rid of the pain you could have focused on writing.. (which i think you did here, it just gets lost in the translation.. nice write -s