The Prism

I love you. I hate you. I chase you like a high.
Another year I could have spent with you rolls by.
You, the shade of April sunsets. Childhood regrets.
Light, piercing windows I no longer stand under.
Staring through the blinds as I whisper and wonder.
That crimson glow reflected in my eyes too well.
You fed me with honey. I was under your spell.

You, the prism that splits the light
Into black and white, into black and white

You, the clock that ticked away time for us.
And the hands that reach out but never touch.
Echoes still surround me, even to this day.
You, the velvet mask I suffocate under.
Closing the blinds as I whisper and wonder.
I love you. I hate you. I don’t remember why.
Another year I could have spent with you has died.

You, the prism that splits the light
Into black and white, into black and white

Ten thousand rooms I may have passed through,
But my hands remain empty, reaching out to you.
And time has closed them tightly into fists.
I am cold on the inside, I am blasphemous.
I am unrecognizable, I never wanted this.
The light in my eyes is now the fire of Hell.
You’re my weakness. I know this all too well.

Everywhere I walk the ground grows cold.
The trees grow thin, the flowers grow old.
I love you. I hate you. It's black and white.
You, the prism that splits the light.

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