Everyone tells me to stop writing about you,
but they don’t know how difficult that is to do
when my vision is blurred with your silhouette.
Even the sky is the same color blue
of the very eyes that split me in two,
and in the end, writing is the recovery I get.
I guess this is a tunnel I’ll have to get through
with fingers crossed, hoping for you
to rid me of this burden I wish to forget,
because this passion would be the worst thing to lose.
And this is what happens
when heartbreak’s your muse.
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