Forbidden

I sit down at the empty desk - hoping the pen will do the work for me. Suddenly I feel like my emotions are shot, drained - nothings coming out anymore. The pens out of ink. Conversation grows dull, stale almost. We try to assemble the puzzle back together, but too many peices are missing. It's funny how people change over the years, we watch the clocks mock us. Nearly a decade back we were nothing, mere strangers, now were back to square one. Somehow I just wish I could step off of this rollercoaster, but the bars have me trapped in. We try to act like each of us are blind to our own fate, but we both know better than to believe such a wanted truth. We try to vent our anger by words, but we just drift even further. It feels like were falling, but insted of wanting to go up, we only long to fall further. We want to salvage everything, every last drop, just climb back up - only to fall again. Somehow we manage to hold on to what little thread is holding us up, but sooner its bound to break, we could walk on stilts and we would still plunder. We lay awake at night, praying that tomorrow might be the day. The day to be set free, almost as if our lives have become prisons. Cheap talk couldn't even help us now, we can't even speak the same language, we're too dead inside. I hope that one day, somehow, maybe someone could give you what you're looking for, if only you knew what that something was. Now we're left to face the reality that what we have left is a mere forbidden hope, something we can't have even if we were to reach for the skies..