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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