therearewaytoomanyfrickinpoemsaboutyouonthisblogandineedtogetovermyself

Through the week
It was a knife
stabbing slowly in and out
attempting to slow the beating of my heart, sawing
it in two, but only pretending to because I didn't even know. Still don't.
Through the month, it was fine, I was
Fine I was
Silly I thought it was through
But now it's two down, one to go, full count and
I don't think I
Can take the
Pressure
Especially since
the worst
part of this
irony is that
it was true every word of the song and the poem and it really is true there is a climax violent delights have violent ends leaves become most beautiful when they're about to die nothing gold can stay october was full of tears and rain and wan't it ironic that i left out august