traviscottbae

[traviscottbae]

Ambivalent.

His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked at his documents, it's a busy week for him. I'm quite convinced that having him as a view behind your desk will sow the seeds of love into your boundless, or even painless heart. Even though how you know exactly his charm has been shattered into someone else's embrace and how you know that your love is a lie, he's somehow still looking so fine. While your desire for him remains, there's something inside youㅡ screaming the life out of it, wanting to heal from the wounds he left behind.

The deep cut that has pricked your heart sufficiently, you're bleeding. Now as the truth revealed, his existence is actually meaningless. However, how could he draw you in again? How did you trip and fall to the same unending abyss again? How in the world, are you unwilling to leave? As you sit between the motionless of the dark, you wait for a glimpse of your unwavering faithfulness that will never arrive.

[traviscottbae]

The pain is more than the word absolute.

The chambers of the pomegranate between my stroking bone have now ceased to beat. What more can I foresee than bidding us a proper farewell that we deserve?

As I step into the lone cave, a deepest part of me form an urge to the response to my long-life query, what will I convince after being harmed a million times, is that all I can hope for? Will these wounds heal into beautiful yet so blossomin' petals foliage or will they follow me for the rest of my life, until my heart stop beating for the second time?

As I look back, I feel like I've been thrived too much on transient things that caused me big shot of pain. I bleed myself to death, and now you're rubbing your fingers on someone's hair. Each time I choose to woke up instead runnin on the limitless touch of my long-awaited heavenly calls, I feel like the wound keeps on getting deepen. It has now reached my most vulnerable spot. Now it's no longer about Keenan, it's the reality's razor edge that wakes me up.

Why did it take me this long to realize, the way you make me feel all this time, I'm hurting. It ain't worth an inch to even enter the sake of myself. Do the days I've been bleeding even count as my karmic debt, or was it something I should have been shrug off from the very beginning? Is the word "us" worth all the blood I've lost over the years? Does it worth it? In the end, do we worth the pain?