My Alibi

holding me close...

you were just imaginary lines,
on a piece of paper that wasnt even there to begin with.
gone in just one or two forced breaths.
and out of all the time and effort,
what did i have to show?
nothing but a book filled with emptiness.
no hellos or goodbyes.
there was no consulation,
no more and no less.
i think through a pen with disappearing ink,
revealing that nothing really exists
only to find a great comfort in this.
this is my last chorus,
and this your last kiss.
i love you.
so with that said,
all i have left is:
theres the knife and heres my wrist.

alright, well im sure i have some explaining to do. i listen to too much music that is about too many sad things, and the poem really has no meaning or relevance to anything up to this point. its just late and my imagination begins to run wild, and words come out. i think i should write a book of poetry or something though. alright, well i should have gone to bed hours ago. night night.