Ballads of Beauty. 7. "We are still at war".

It’s been days, months, years, and we’re still at war

A dagger would be less blood than your sweetest words

A murder would be more mercy than your tenderness

A lie would be more like truth than your true intents

I keep telling myself: I didn’t deserve all this

The goodbyes that hurt the most are in fact the bliss

As they’re followed by new hellos and feelings anew

What foolish a role for me, and what fun for you

I’m a loser, baby

This is your victory

I’ll surrender, maybe,

If you promise to set me free

I am tired of fighting back

I am tired of my winning stance

Let the whitest of lies go black

Let the killing move be a dance

‘T was the darkest desire and the purest of sacrifice

‘T was the white of the virtue, the red of the vilest vice

Bleak oblivion for you, perennial memory for me

Plenty of light, but no intention to see

Now the taste of the freedom so bitter on my dry lips

Is that my heart, the thing that so painfully beats?

Dying love takes a lot away when it’s gone

Leaving nothing behind for who might have been the one.

© 2010. Anastasia Duchevski