Again

I procrastinated;
It seems as if time plays me like a fool.

I wonder,  when you'll no longer be who you are to me.
And I wonder, if I'd still love you.

Maybe love is selfish,  maybe my love was. Maybe that's why it is so hard to let go.

Pleasure, desire and a temporary fire.

How can something start so fast, last awhile, yet managed to build a strong, torn wall like ours?

Cold and distant, it makes no sense. But you alone can play it well.

Gone; without a farewell, but as if either of us would've said goodbye.

Come and go, the memories emerge, and that's when it all goes wild.

And I'll try to do it like you, present in thought with masked silence.

But im afraid if we ever come across, my efforts would go to waste.

How is it that you're able to wrap the pieces so dearly, yet choose to end it bitter?

Whereas I on the other hand, tried all I could to mirror what you conveyed, 

but instead, cut myself with the broken pieces remained.

I'd like to know you're far from where I am at heart, but yet hesitant to hear the rumours.

Do you try to walk ahead,
Or are you well aware of your own state?

And im stuck in neither,

enlightened or detached.