Pack up. I’m locking the doors.
October 18, 2011
I said to myself that if you don’t reply, I’ll give it up.
But I check my phone every other second to find reasons not to.
Love makes us all do stupid things. If only it came with a manual then I wouldn’t have broken so many boy’s hearts.
Then I would know what to do with you.
You’re like the face of karma, coming back to haunt me.
Reminding me of all the great things boys have done for me, to which in return I stab a knife right through their hearts.
I get what I gave. Karma karma..
Pack up, I’m locking the doors. I’m wrapping my feelings in a dumpling.
I hold a bouquet of roses in my hand, wishing I’d given it to you.
Instead I gave it to the world. To the many others who would take it, devour it and forget about it.
I’m returning into the kitchen, hiding from the crowd.
There I’m safe. There, I indulge in my own tears.
Why is the dumpling crying?
Not because it has too much feelings.
It wishes it had courage. Courage to face the truth,
that it will never be.
You never replied.
