The Present

Was something trying to burrow in my brain?
I admit the fruit of your love never ripened in it
But you gouged your way into my eyes again
Your face is a push pin in frayed pages of sin
Written based on true events that unraveled within
A part of me you hold next to your heart so I can feel it bleed
A saga written by us that only we can read
Like a movie prop an actor holds onto
The sweater I kept just reminds me of you
Like an actress you wept and threatened to end this
The night I stopped holding you
I ripped the petals from my heart
Reciting this rhyme hoping I'd hear your prayers
Never sure of anything I do
Except the fact I might believe you
This hurt you, this hurt you not
This hurt you, this hurt you not
Flowers bloom in strange places
If one grew in my lungs id suffocate
And Though I feel like I'm choking
From this self medication & loathing
I know I'm right
But I may be wrong