Hearts are cold, and hands are looking for each other. In this world of lies and deceit, nothing is real, and nothing hurts, when everything fails to have a heartbeat. All I can think of is your hands down my back; all I can think of is my hands around your neck. This addiction runs through me, without hesitation, without remorse, without restrain.

I miss your lips, and I miss your eyes. I miss the way you tell me lies.

I miss how good you are at reading all the signs. And how you turn off all the lights around the city, inside me, inside God…

You left darkness, you left cold, you left me… You left the beat, the heart, the non sense and the mystery; all the while you were trying to survive the crisis of love.

Nothing inside you was love, and nothing inside me was true. We were the children of mischief, and we were bad – so very bad to each other that no one dared to lift the dreams, to lift the veils from our eyes.

We never had it all. We always had nothing.

I am not sure what I’m trying to tell you, maybe that I miss you. Your beginning, and your ending. Your smile. Your power. Your tears are tearing me up.

We never had it all, and now it may be too late.

We forgot how to be addicted to ourselves, and now we’re addicted to each other. We’re addicted to the pain, the numbness, the unhappiness.

The fire is gone, but the coal is still there. All numb, but hot. All fiery, but calm. And it will burn you like nobody else. It will burn, and it will pain you. Your bones will be crushed, and my soul will be destroyed. And it will be too late, or maybe it will be too soon. I still love the sound of you.

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