The memory of you is a soft yellow hue, meaning somewhere in the pain and suffering you’ve brought comfort. Unfortunately, the yellow has been burning blue. Like the flame in my chest that has always been for you, too hot to touch but that’s something I knew.
I knew you would go, I knew it too well. That’s something I learned long before I fell. Falling for you was like a soft landing view on the pillows of your bed when I held onto you. I desperately want to create more memories with you, but you’re gone.
You’re gone, you’re gone.
Almost as though repeating it will drive the thought through my head. Yet I always set myself up with hope and am met with disappointment when I’m left with the realization that I’m always alone. I’ve always been alone. You’re something I’ve conjured up in hopes of being real..
When the only thing that’s real about this is how much you’ve made me feel.