metalmarna

Were damaged people
Drawn together
By subtleties that we are not aware of
Disturbed souls
Playing out forever
These games that we once thought we would be scared of . . .

It's getting cold here and the days have turned grey. The sun tries to warm us but is bullied by thick clouds and the aftermath of morning rain.

Ah, rain.

How it can make you feel 10 years old again, sipping hot cocoa and bundled up in soft blankets, an excuse to stay in cause mama doesn't want you to get sick.

This is the time of the year when I am most sentimental. I bring out the songs that warm my heart, the lyrics that tear me limb from limb. And as the clouds cry their dirty tears, I cry too.

I spend my time in my car now - in front of my apartment. Just listening to music. LOUD. HEAVY. soft. sweet. I let the bass kick me and the guitar bruise my soul, let the voices take me to a memory deep in the corners of my mind. Some of them good. Most of them deseprate and alone.

At night, I watch my lover sleep. I wrap my arms around him and soak in his warmth - wish he was awake so we could giggle and tell secrets beneath the sheets like we used to. As if the cold can bring us closer together, the time of year when family is remembered and love is rejoiced.

But then I remember what Benjamin said, he said, "Love is knowing it can end and accepting that you will only be friends." And I take in his words and wrap them around my mind and so as to prolong our love, I let my lover sleep, and save my temptations for another day.

Oh, these times I am the most sentimental.

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown . . .