Know that when I open my mouth,
dance in lazy circles in your eyes,
or feel anything pertaining to love from sorrow to joy
These things are no longer for you.
Know that with each drawn out step
and breaking of a new day
(A promising sign you mistaken as a promise of more promises)
I am not anything but a lonesome wish.
For you, I am the glass heel that couldn’t fit,
a taste of sweet imagination not to be in your mouth again
You can watch if you like
before an overwhelming smile of something new happens.
To see me bloom past the ashy twinkle,
as I burn for a love that isn’t yours,
and prove that I’m what dreams consist of.
But I beg you to know the difference
Between wasting clocks for dreams not meant for you
And the excuse,
‘Everything will mend us,
as if what happened in the past didn’t say otherwise’
because I don’t think you believe enough
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