Blue and white,
Young starlit nights,
Cradled in the soft string lights,
You and I but shadows in endless black.

At one point the name shattered,
And, we, became the same.
Surrounded by a constant new,
Something begs to be born,
But the soil is long withered,
And the sun's fallen to the moon.

Burning up the bookend wax,
Time slowing to match my heart,
Leaning into broken silence,
Scritch-scratching lead leaving a hurried, feverish mark.
No peeping,
Nor perked ears,
So even the walls find time to sleep.

Wicker candles,
Fine wooden handle,
Sea salt caramel foam -
Desert Amber
Billowing incense whispers,
"Yes, we are alone."

Quick to melt,
yet slow to smile,
Nesting in the dusty scent of old,
as if the new was yet to exist.

Obsession, longing
Once one in the same,
Seems it safe to say that nothing has changed.
In the name of Love,
Awful, selfish, and Terrible Love,
Sweet, elated, affection,
Rapt, continuous attention!
You've lost every semblance of self,\
Become entirely someone else-
And I,
Was obviously never meant to be me,
So together these creations live happily,
In everlasting, eternal Peace.

Antiquated rain drips off the eaves and window frames,
A remnant of midnight air frosting the carpet.
Drowsy, idle, and crisp -
Are you early morning or late night?
Neither city lights nor sunrise define you,
Only a vague feeling whispers your name.
Crack the window,
Let those eerie winds decide

You are Tender,
I am Tasteless.
You lavishly enjoy your prime,
Wasted on your future's time.
I do naught but watch,
as life becomes present, then past,
Till hell forcibly closes the tab.

How can we rot and grow in conjunction?
Neither yes nor no
brings us out of the middle,
And Bright Grey cannot paint over our darkened monochrome.

I felt it again,
Scorch of motivation,
Flooding acknowledgement,

Don't ever kiss and tell,
But we can **** and write,
Falling apart as quickly
as the fueled string ignites.

Watchtower Guards-men
Bellow to the waves,
Beneath the catastrophe-struck skies,
Lay the coffin
We've ceased to maintain.
And history shall pen in the books,
"Again."