Your Love was My Lifeline
Dressed like a daydream but soon danced with nightmares, showered with angelic wings, tippy toes to heaven when all along I was Lucifer and was running in hell—the phenomena of the gaping abyss.
I could vividly recognize the (un)painted fragments of our masterpiece, but was it? As the sun sets and the breeze makes me shudder, your figure never shadowed mine. You're never that perfect love I used to write on my ripped-off diary back in vintage times. If I could just shift my pen away from you, if I could twist back my words so that I could wake up with someone better.
//I know I could've but I didn't.
Make the heavens believe me that I was so gullible about the sugars my mother spat out, saying that perfect love comes and it shouldn't be found. How ironically, after getting dressed with thousand cuts—I still stood naive.
But the world evolves, and the shadows shift angles; glistening above over every corner—leaving no space unwanted. That's when I (just) saw you. You are the perfect painting of bliss and ethereal madness, the space between the alternate paths of two different worlds—but you're bleeding, full of scars and untreated wounds.
//Who did that to you?
—You did.
Then that was when it all made sense. That everytime I hastily closed my eyes, and the music of my devils starts to magically fade away, (I thanked the heavens, when I should've hugged you tighter). You're the reason of that tranquil escape. The lullaby of the horror within me. To how I started living was your beginning of dying.
That my greed, histrionical frustrations turned me into a Lucifer (I thought I was Peter) that started to kill you, stab you from behind and even bury you alive. that my words are sharpened daggers starting to aim, and my glares sending shards of glass to destroy your soul—I took you for granted, and my conscience is now being haunted.
//Please don't leave me.
—I won't get tricked by you again.
I removed my mask to reveal something my sight never saw—it was your amore, the dulce affetto that I've mistaken as fire and played it—ignited the path of mine where I left you behind.
No wonder the devils inside me never left—I was the shifting metaphors of crucial death and hatred. I died a long time ago, I was at hell, and all along I was the devil and you're the angel God sent as my resurrection phenomena.
But I danced with demons and let you burn, the ample amount of daydream 'twas now a nightmare. Now you left (with burnt wings and dying fragments), it was the calling of my suffer—I love you but it was so late. I soon will dive deep down under, regrets destined to start running down my spine. But as I gaze below me—it was not all about the gaping abyss that scares me—
\\It's the repeating scene of losing you that terrifies me.
__________