Halo

I know of a pain
that stains the fabric of the heart.
A heart that once loved and loving back
on the same tempo
of two heartbeats, beating for one another.

Pins and needles.
Pins and needles.
Pins
and
fucking
needles.

I counted the streetlights
of every pole that passed by the window
on every lonesome night drive,
cruising as the heartache lurks on every
freeway on my mind.

Every stray of light,
that reminded me of being an undeserving soul each time,
so unworthy to even ache from missing a free dove that flew away,
and will not come back.

Because if "you deserve so much better" is how it supposed to be when
every time I thought that I have already found
the missing pieces I've been looking for,

I might as well
don't deserve anything.

And if freedom is the thought,
when the reality is shackled tightly onto the ground,

freedom is somehow too good to be true.

Because while to the contrary of happiness, is impermanent, it is also certain.
And certainty never lies,
like pictures.

And to deny certainty,
is suicidal.

On this very day,
this very day,
this
very
day,
I wrote your name with
every drip of blood
that runs through my veins
as the ink
- for every unrequited hope,
that will never come true -
before I mimicked the honesty
with thousands of counterfeit expressions,
to bury the excruciating pain.

Don't you know that
underneath the facade,
of these thick layers of smiling masks,
there's a face that's bruised and full of scars,
and severed hopes,
and broken dreams,
that misses you?