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Can this be love?

If all I want to do,

is scar my arms,

open the tissues of my skin,

tear my veins apart,

use them as strings of a guitar,

and with them play some blues,

with lyrics writing from the heart,

wanting to light up a blunt,

grasp a cup of whiskey or rum,

in search for your heart

to come to a halt,

having in mind all you cant have,

been lost in the hallways of your own mind,

trying to escape

yet always ending up in the same place,

don’t think love is lived in this pace,

sinking to the bottom of this place,

mother soils with her hands,

wanting for her son to rest,

I once thought and believed

love will make you reach outer space,

it had before

now it simply confuses my mental state,

do you spell it

L

O

V

E

or is it simple lonely lettering,

my urge to once again

open up the valves to my heart,

let the red wine flow,

let my mind have its on thoughts,

begin to lock door by door,

yet nerves are frozen

or maybe still in dazed

with the liquid that makes you sing

rancheras all day,

maybe I am confused

and someone has changed the rules,

I had not noticed it

till my mind was refresh,

a lesson in seconds learn

as you spoke

and I had an image

of your angelic face,

this is not love,

so I will drink my rum,

a tequila shot,

chaaaaaaaouuuu,

my mind is acting up,

so I will leave the

L

O

V

E

and connected it as a single word,

can this be love,

no is not,

but at least I am beginning

to the adapt

to the word which I used to feel

and once saw

-che