Impenetrable, yet penetrated, yet punctured and bled out, yet fallen.
I'm lost and I don't know what you are.
Inspiration has faded and I'm left with museless thoughts.
Dead and depressing, kind of like how you've been.
We really are the same.
The same in all the worst ways possible.
How can I say anything without saying everything?
You're not even real.
You're lost to me, and you're there for everyone else.
Clueless, blissful.
Lucky.
I miss your fake confessions and your unreal life,
I miss your understanding and the way it was always you.
I miss your false sense of security, and I miss your promises the most.
I miss the feeling of forever,
I wish I didn't love a ghost.