written by: N.C.- Marisa Phanord
and” Tell me that you adore me” were the thing I use to say when
I feared that your essence wasn’t near,
And your love wasn’t here.
Once again, I would love to hear your voice.
When I heard that baritone travel through my phone, it
Caused my soul to break up into an infinite amount of pieces,
Tapping into unknown sources happiness that was once overflowing.
I know this may sound a little clumsy,
But it’s a matter fact that,
The ashes still remain, from that fire that you once proclaimed
To be love, in my heart.
So what? It’s been how many days and so many things haven’t been the same.
Things have been kind of lonely, I’ll admit,
In this one house, one room, and once loved body.
So here’s my past’s story:
We lived 50 stories sky high.
There were no elevators, no stairs, and only stares
Because we lived so high, in aerial condition.
There we no other two people as far up as us.
So we had to grab their attention.
We use to take them for a ride, the way our love
We charged no fare.
Although you didn’t care, I use to think it wasn’t fair
To show them how “great” love could be because it wasn’t something that anyone could achieve.
But then I found out it was a fantasy.
I’m tired of weeping.
I’m tired of strategizing events of the past for new results.
However, I still wish you could have told me from the beginning;
Told me from the beginning who you wanted to be. And that is:
A weatherman, Just a quick fling,and a man not-willing-to-fight- for-the-real-thing .
So tell me Mr. Weatherman, will you be accurate today?
Will our forecast for tomorrow be clear enough for today?
Since I’ve been dying to go out
To really see what has been eating at us.
Or will this black cloud remain?
which most people would call profane.
But I have learned that black clouds tend to fade out.
So I won’t have to fear because
With this being the final tear
This bleeding heart will finally get a chance to breathe again,
And maybe mend again.
All this is about finding myself,