Detour
My heart spills like milk on the ground and I am fazed. But what use is there to cry over spilled milk, I ask myself as I allow a tide of disappointment to sweep over me. What use is there to dwell in such drowning agony.
I tell myself it was all just a dream. Like an off-track detour that circles back to point nought. Just a hazy overinflated dream with exponentiated hopes. The twinkling green in those eyes, they were just a dream. The little tokens of admiration exchanged, they were just a dream. My naivety for believing it could've been so much more, it was just a dream.
Just a dream, just a detour. A dream robbed away as swiftly as the first mental blink of wakefulness, bringing me back to point nought where the circle turns tangential to be the straight line it was before. Loss and exponentiated hopes will somehow find a way to cancel each other to return me to the relative nothingness it began with.
Oh solacing oblivion, what would I be without you?
I tell myself it was all just a dream. Like an off-track detour that circles back to point nought. Just a hazy overinflated dream with exponentiated hopes. The twinkling green in those eyes, they were just a dream. The little tokens of admiration exchanged, they were just a dream. My naivety for believing it could've been so much more, it was just a dream.
Just a dream, just a detour. A dream robbed away as swiftly as the first mental blink of wakefulness, bringing me back to point nought where the circle turns tangential to be the straight line it was before. Loss and exponentiated hopes will somehow find a way to cancel each other to return me to the relative nothingness it began with.
Oh solacing oblivion, what would I be without you?
