punctuate

as i delete these photos my memory becomes a blur,
of what i will be i'm still unsure.
i hate seeing your fucking smile.
it's probably all my fault but i'm in denial.
a comforting shoulder is what i want, but a life of my own is what i need.
just give me a moment, maybe two or three.
i'm still catching my breath as you proceed.
You moved on so quick, i'm such a fucking waste.
All your words are so bitter I can’t stomach their taste.
As I focus my eyes I see it’s hopeless to try.

I resent the fact that I don’t have your warm embrace.
I remember the times when all I wanted was your touch,
And all the times I thought I couldn't see you enough.
I’m sorry if this all sounds like a eulogy.
But the irony is killing me.
Its my fault for wanting what father time had in mind.
while i looked ahead, that bastard took you away instead.
I won’t apologize for being over-dramatic;
What you call drama I know as trauma.
it's always so easy in the start, when you only love with your bleeding heart.
to fall in love with a story embellished with pride and glory.
i've built a humble dwelling in my head to keep me safe from our inevitable end.
for so long I wanted a perfect ending.
but i learned the hard way that songs don't always rhyme,
and some stories don't have a beginning, middle, and end.
I know where we started but I lost track of the finish,
and i'll never know why our love diminished.
you see the funny thing with endings is the lack of closure.
i won't even bother maintaining my composure.