Keeping the covers over your
eyes in the morning never hides
the true darkness.
You still have butterflies in your
veins you know.
Or possibly moths,
you've always thought they were beautiful.
Pretty maybe.
Stapling the black curtains to
the wall will never
have the same effect of your
mother standing over you
saying how she wished she
could understand why you 
were so in love with death
and you wished your body were
mountains so people could
glue their eyes to you as
the sun said goodbye
behind your head.
That was your funeral. 
You still walk around and leave 
fingerprints like the coffee stains
on my teeth.
You just so happen to leave
scales everywhere you step.
Leaving the same line from your bedroom to the bathroom
where you've probably shattered
the mirror with how your heart
felt like crushing your chest plate
but settled.
you spent so much time on looking
out of windows you became one,
knowin there is a fire burning
inside of you but your biggest 
fear is never being consumed by it.
I love you and everything so much
right now
and it's still not enough.
T.L