d o n t e v e n k n o w a n y m o r e 

Eating moldy blueberries and writing

Writing about the love I never got

The love I never had.

When time has been spent, 7 years to be exact,

Love should come more naturally, more mature.

When the Earth sinks into the dried ocean, where

Will the stars tinkle at night?

I just want to know if I’m doing this right.

Is love supposed to feel like this? Feel like nothing?

The words off your tongue, don’t mean a damn thing.

Emptiness has become my new friend, the color black

Owns my soul and my shattered heart.

I thought this was love, I thought I was doing it right.

Things do have to end at some point, but don’t end

When the bells are about to start playing.

Or when the babies start to cry.

You’ve already left me here to die,

So just tell the birds to tuck me in

And go.