It’s funny that I can picture myself laughing with you all day long.
Despite the fact that my eyes dried out for over-crying, knowing that my love for you is the biggest joke of all.
At least I won’t cry whenever I remember you. At least your lame punch-lines still give me midnight chills as I no longer enjoy sleep; and the urge to see humor in every unfortunate events.
It’s better to showcase you on the elf’s shelf of my heart, rather than trying to hide our joyous memories — because my heart can explode as they keep self-replicating.
I might be just the echo of your past, but you remain the sweet sounds of a slot machine;
that keeps giving me sinful random rewards, but not your lottery-chanced heart.