I never wanted you as much as I do now
now
now that I don't need you
I've never felt so liberated now
now
now the canvas is blank; let me illustrate it
I've been thinking about the past, all the parts. My sink is filled with glasses which aren't half empty. Far from it. They're chipped, and mixed with the liquid. Sometimes when I wash my hands in the hot water I find shards of glass under my skin, splintered in it within my fingertips. It’s probably all a metaphor for something broken and painful, but it feels all too real now
now
now the taps won't stop running. No. I fixed it; they won't leak again
I never wanted you when I needed you the most. I'm in love with the things I can't have now
now
now I'm drying my hands with paper towels that are stained with bloodied swollen palms, I'm too calm to remember resting down to harm. The aftermath paints a self-absorbing stigmata of sorts. Blood is pouring like port and poetry while the words run dry. BYO with no corking fee now
now
now there's barely a drop of purity left. Yet, the pure drops are beautifully kept like the drips of tears and years you and me wept