Don’t cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
You want me,
Come find me.
Make up your mind.You never call me when you’re sober.
You only want it cause it’s over.
Was listening to this song earlier tonight. Haunting voice, haunting lyrics. Depression is like an old lover, teasing me with a caress, a whisper, fingers in my hair that lightly turn to a clinched fist with a delicious stab of pain that brings heat to my skin. How easy it is to turn back to those arms that know how to touch me. How easy it is to forget that the promise of an embrace is an empty one.
Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies
So I don’t know what’s real and what’s not
Always confusing the thoughts in my head
So I can’t trust myself anymore
So easy. Like a return to a first love, the one that has always been in the back of the mind, the shadow just out of sight. The movement that catches the eye, distracting it, then the wistfulness at realizing what is missed. How can sadness seem so welcoming? Deceptive depression. But how nice it would be for someone else to take the reins for a while.
