Nothing Is That a Was Not Before

I saw something that made me sad today.
I wont, . . . No, I will not tell you.
Keeping the secret is keeping the beauty to me.
Keeping the emptiness.
Keeping the hollow ache, the one that makes it hurt to breathe.
And you somehow now feel special because you've kept it to your self.

When I started this I meant to tell you something,
Something about the uncertainty of missing you.
Fuck it. It's gone now, like so many lost thoughts I don't bother to write down anymore.
I meant to say that from missing you I buried myself in the damp, wet, earth.
I covered myself from the sun because it was like your love
And I lay there in the dark dreaming of your warmth.
But that's utter shit, isn't it?

It all is.
Maybe it always was.
But who am I trying to impress?
I cannot satisfy myself and that is the key,
The buzzing of the hive
That tells me I'm no good
And the voices are all my own.
They prick me, stinging venom.
I lie here uncomfortable
but hardly fatal,
Hardly in danger,
Hardly importend enough to matter.