PO Box Dead

If given the chance id steal her heart.
Id steal her breath.
Take away all the joy from pain,
Giving her more.

Heartache, and thrillers
And anything i can think of
To make this something she might,
Regret.

She made the mistake
Of sending me written letters
I played this game
Called PO Box 109

And im bringing all sorts of hell,
On her head.
Writing sentences of what ill do,
When shes dead.

Never forget the way your lips felt

When its going so well i feel as though i need something to go wrong to make the good things feel right. As if i didn't know i'm never happy. The next lottery winner could be me and all id have to say is; "cool". Like i didn't already know i've no emotion for this. When i have something so good in my hands, in my arms, right in front of my fucking face. I wont see you tomorrow. Maybe no one will. A sad story we all speak of and assume no one else relates. Every one speaks of.

When you know what you want, and know you cant have it. That hurts the most. I'll never forget the few hours i spent. Driving, talking, blond haired lazy eye. Adorable. So unpredictable. I can think of a thousand words to say, but many artists have already sung them. Ill put that in a mix tape. Sign it, "Never forget the way your lips felt".

I've taken action. Planing my life strait. Paying people back. For once in my life i need to be serious about... my life. Good things will come to those wait. God i hope she does.