Jazznevashykrystal

If self loathing was an artform, you would be Michelangelo, and my soul the roof of the Sistine Chapel.
My heart Van Gogh's ear,
And my life the semblence of David.
Picasso had a blue period, but no hue close
To that of the one I felt with you.
Not even the style of music held the pain.
Yes your name rings moving horns,
Falling and crashing melodies thickened by quickly paced drums.
But...my honeysuckle rose never bloomed in autumn.
And New York was lack luster for Moody's mood.
Longing for one night under Tunisian skies without feeling melancholy.
Somberly dancing the solamente uno
When el concion was made bailar junto.
So...
We won't say it will neva happen.
Won't say I'll neva stop loving you.
Neva say goodbye
Neva say goodnight
Neva close that door
Neva poor every ounce trust I have in this situation into the gutter.
Neva tell a woman how much she means to me
And neva tell her I love her.
Cause if you are neva to say neva, I've already done it to the power of 8.
No escape...being your confidant and best friend
Cancels out my own love and leaves no room for grievance.
I bottle our strained existance and exit stage right.
Head held high...
Cause although you shine like silver pieces
The divinity of my own self worth cannot be purchased with minted metal.
I love that I loved you.
I learned that I wanted you.
And realized I never really needed you.