I can cry, and cry, and continue crying
But my tears mean nothing so I stop trying

I've stopped trying

True love,
Who love?
You, love.

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes
they recklessly play with matches.
setting nerves alight
chocking her brain in billow smoke
and yet I’ve never seen sparks so pretty.

I hate needles
but I want tattoos
enough to cover my entire arm
with nothing but words
meaningful words
I want to be read like a book
The kind with a mediocre middle
rough beginning
and crisis-averted ending
The kind with characters
you can't help but fall in love with
That's the kind of book
I want tattooed onto my skin

if you want to learn
what someone fears losing,
watch what they photograph.
- that explains why he never took pictures of me

I stand in the road
Just a little longer
When I walk

Just a little tease for death
In our never ending game of hide and seek

It feels powerful