race.

our love is like a death race, it might not end well but every time i want to come in first place. maybe you’re someone i can’t replace but my heart is erased. left in your hands it has been tossed around, neglected and broken. i frantically pick up the pieces each time, almost feeling numb, but it never repairs the same. it continues to beat but a piece of my heart is missing. i dream of better days. a time in which life was simpler. a time to decompress. to be able to share your feelings with someone without fear of abandonment. hiding it all behind a smile that fades as the sun sets. should i feel angry? almost like a spinning cycle in a…