Oh boy.
We're insanely on and off.
And you blame me for what you casually did.
You had me emotionally triggered.
Then, you said that I got venom in my head.
Oh man!
They said, "Communication is the key."
But my boy cannot even hear me.
Silence was his consistency.
He might speak deep, but he's a total deaf.
Mostly, he listened not to comprehend, but to defend.
He thought silence was an effective remedy.
Tall and handsome, pride was his wisdom.
He said he's an idiot, but his wingless words that got me more doomed.
Inside the room, he painted so much of "soon" enough that it ignited my expectation.
Last song syndrome: all of them are on repetition.
Like an unsung melody, it clings inside me to "What could've been?"
Even your time goes by easily without hearing about me.
"Does it sound easy for you while I'm uneasy?"
Those days I felt like begging.
So I stopped initiating because it'll only end up hurting me.
Talking and chatting with me was like a disappointment for him.
Boy, tell me —
"Am I too free for you to wreck me this easy?"
On a table, I'm writing a list of orders, but I realized you are no longer serving.
And so —
Three months since leaving with an empty bowl,
A pain that no longer growls.
October 2nd, inside the dark room,
My phone screen flashes on.
A heartfelt email flutters a foolish she.
It was signed — "Your Idiot."
My mind froze, but my heart was melting.
A phone call keeps ringing; I was dancing.
I was touched by curiosity.
A minute of confession, he was locked in.
Oh boy — here we go again.