A sip of wine or beer again and again; too much.
between the unconscious and conscious love there’s a huge difference,
Sure no intimacy, but rather lust.
When you feel completely lost,
alone and forced to do something,
there’s kind of love that everybody wants to know the prize of,
or how many it costs.
Broken in feelings,
unrequited or living in a breakup
your wounds are hurting your old faded scars again
and you’re wearing smeared make-up.
It seems the love doesn’t find your path or name again.
With your head beaten against the bloody pavement,
you try to make a careful statement,
about your different attraction to the same sex;
But there is no one to reach their hand out to you,
No one to respect you.
And there will be no warmth of a lovers flesh,
When love is so damaged,
It can’t heal,
The intimacy doesn’t care less,
You feel your wounds carved into you, so fresh.
You stare at your empty bottle,
wishing your pain is soon enough going away like full throttle.
Your statement of attraction to the same sex;
you feel it is never going to be respected.