A part of me believed in the fiction of August 25
And hated you for breaking it.
A part of me valued your presence,
And hated me for degrading it.
I still look upon the fingers worn
From my pleasures
From my pressures
From the wrath of my imagination
And in their dreams rests the contours of your face
I awkwardly grasped underneath
The sky that still binds us together.
I do not have the right to call you a friend
After leaving you when the world had abandoned you.
The lies you told me refuse to hold together
The lie I have of you
And the truth of who you are
Of how you have grown
Of how you have changed
And of how you kept on lying,
To prevent my world from breaking apart.
And it forever broke when my words
Forced that final crack on yours.
“I will never speak to you again.”
What I know of you is a fiction
Made from a body I know is real
And which tried not to forget
The promise of worlds
That both of us used to build.
But how long do we have to spend
To forgive ourselves for our sins
Perhaps it is a living body
We have murdered with our fiction
And we will die stained with its blood.
And if we ever get to look each other in the eye
Do we throw it all away,
Or do we hold on to the cracks,
That lash our souls till God knows when.
If ever there is a God.
Perhaps if I get to step into your door,
Maybe it is enough I know you still live
To give me liberty to listen to your stories
For mine are an abomination
They are the monsters
That drown all those close to me
And with your weaving of lying and telling
I may be humbled
These are fragments of a true story I couldn’t yet reconcile with until that fateful moment comes and I could meet him in the eye. And I could only do so in the most unlikely of circumstances, since we are already countries apart.
Image Citation here.
Deviantart Artist: ineedchemicalx. Artist profile here.