Friday, August 5, 2011
It's too cold outside, for angels to fly.
Posted at 2:13 PM
Listening to Birdy, waiting for him to come home. It's the 11 month.
White lips, pale face
Breathing in snowflakes
Burnt lungs, sour taste
Light's gone, day's end
Struggling to pay rent
Long nights, strange men
And they say
She's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since 18
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us
Cos we're just under the upperhand
And go mad for a couple of grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly
I just want to be with you, I just want to hold you and love you. Crying makes no sense anymore, there's too much of it. I don't want to be reborn if you won't be there. I don't want to be that happiest girl for that day if it's not with you. I feel so helpless, every single thing that I do is wrong and short felt. It's just hurts so much how you just go away without even saying anything. But I was okay, I saw you. And I smiled, and I was fine. You are everything to me, I feel so infinite when I am with you. But why are we fading away? Why do you react the way you do. Why. Questions after questions. The love is there, it's just far fetched and hard to grasp. I love you so much, Syamil. Where are you? I'm still waiting for you to say sorry. I'm still waiting for you to hold me.
All I ever want is to see you happy and to get what you want, to achieve greater heights and to be whole. I want that for you, for us. But I'm awkward and rebellious and it's going the opposite way and we fight, and fight and fight. Bruising me with your words. Hurting you with mine.
I've called you for the 6th time I think. And it seems that all these posts are about you, and only you. And how you complete me like no other. How you lift me up and love me. Dear god, I love him so much. I promised not to hurt him. But what if he hurts me? What if we keep on hurting and there's nothing to keep us upright anymore. I don't want to be this way. Acquaintance hate me for how I am, hate how I treat him, thinking they can do a better job at making him feel the way he's supposed to feel. But they are wrong. They are wrong. I'll prove it. And I wouldn't mind much, if you dislike me. It's not about you. I wouldn't mind much. In fact, fuck you. Fuck you for making me feel like a total useless donkey in this world. Fuck you.
Hate me, please. I enjoy you scratching me with your evil stares and slow voices. Hate me. I love him.
