I can’t forget the past

not even with this glass

of pure anesthesia.

I’ve got another thing coming

when I start humming

that song of yours

that you’ve loved so much.

And I know I’ve never been a saint

but for you I tried to paint

a better picture, of this broken man.

Seasons pass

we raise a glass

for two dead people

we were a part of the herd

the sheeple

when we tried to tell ourselves it worked.

And though it was special

it crumbled like the empires of old

watching the fall of Rome

with some good Italian wine.

I write for the deceived eyes of mine

not yours

you don’t read anymore.

Completely lost in this haze of fiction

and that which was maybe real

whose hearts did we really steal

when we said we had a deal

when the devil had us duly wed.

Baptized in red wine

in the rivers of Babylon

and forsaken thoughts.

I just bloody can’t anymore

maybe it was better had I not woken up

from this dream

and its clean, cold separation that followed.

Severed the heart

it’ll beat for another minute or two

but for who?

Not for me no more

not for you, even when it’s what I told

it’ll just stop

eventually

eventually stop hurting.

And when the artery stops bursting

I’ll wake up in a better place

complete darkness

with no senses

no memories of old

no memories of you

no thoughts.

There was once a time when I wanted it all

but now I crave the nothing that awaits me.