Your own sanctity. Memories are left to be wiped away. A screening through the time of the past and I'm looking through the sand-glass remembering time and it's objective. You'll know love through songs, through bleeding hearts and crazed affections but it's never the right answer. Love is never blind. It just sees what it wants to see and discards the things it doesn't. Life doesn't get more obsessional when you've got someone to share it with. Or at least when you think you do. You'll end up cold, alone and frozen out of the picture. Even when you say you love someone else, the damage from the past is too much to bear. The humiliation of the intense suffering just leaves you numb. And cold. And a thousand knives are squared up to you and what do you do. Sweat. Squirm. Forget about your love from the past it means nothing now. But it meant something. And that something will continue to haunt you to play like a cruel joke at your own expense. Is it really worth the damage that you put into it? Or that the stars collide and turned around into rats? You'll never know but to bleed inside your melting heart. Melting from the pain. And the stars cry your name but you live in guilt, shame and repression. Wondering what blood would make you feel better. Look to the sky once in a while, try to understand, and move on.
