I hope shooting stars fall on all your empty acres.
The places where the seeds I planted never grew.

Places that won't even grow poppies.
Yes, I'm praying the Sars fall on no man's land.
More commonly known as your heart.

You were my worst nightmare, dressed in all my favourite promises.

You are my own succubi robed in Answered Prayers,

Oh, Dear. I'll make a memory out of you.

I loved you most, when the lies you'd worn all day
piled at your feet.

My God you look so. *******. Pretty.
With nothing but the truth on.

Now come and lie to me between the sheets.

They say ideas are cheap,
I'm a hoarder of ideas,
but my accumulation of ideas,
still couldn't buy me the dream of you.

Not even on loan.

You were always the first person I told.
But for some reason, you were the last person to know.

Why did you do that?

Choose to not know me.