I don't burn bridges, I preserve those wonders of old. I let the waters rise, whilst I remain underneath its ridges and contours.

I don't burn bridges, not because that I am mature.

I don't burn bridges, because I am alone; and a bridge is a well travelled road.

I am not afraid of the dark; nor of the many creatures that hide beneath its veil.

I dread the light, both failing flicker and spirited spark; whose existence threatens with the realisation that you are not there...

That you are but a pleasant phantom, whose sight I entertain - Beneath the warm affections of Midnight's rain.

I am not afraid of the dark, though I dread the truth; a gospel that proclaims a life without you. And light just happens to be its evidence, so within Dark's nest, I hide you.

There's writing on the wall, and it all seems so clear. I'm living to give you my all, and you're dying to get away.

Your last text was long, though there was so much that you had left unsaid. You had asked me to be strong, and accept that you were my yesterday. Tell me! What is forgiveness' debt that I see it paid?

My body is keeping up this lie; my eyes don't want to cry. A part of me is missing from the inside, and that part had told me... "Goodbye."

Your every pore, my tongue wishes to explore... to know.

Whilst my hands long to touch the nucleus of your soul.

Let my ears hear the harmonies of your unbroken moans.

I shall inhale the sap and nectar of Love's tree, greedily, as your falling flowers' pollen bury me; within a living tomb of ecstasy.

We will see, all of the animals and beasts, we lovers can be; when "Human" nature runs free.

I'm laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. You're staying in my head, and I can't shake these feelings.

My every word and deed, confesses that you are my need; love has sown her seed, and from it roots my heart bleeds.

I'm laying in my bed, while you're laying in my head, and so this tragedy begins. Might someone please rid Shakespeare of his pen, and let this story come to its end?

The tempest winds are blowing strong, I am slowing falling down; I feel that I am suffocating underneath water, but I can't seem to drown.

My heart can't get any sleep, causes it speeds up its beat, when I tell you that I love you... but you don't repeat.

I am staring at the ceiling, imagining that you are staring back, and for now... I am content with that.

I may be falling in love, or going crazy, though perhaps they're both the same.

I fell in love with the silence, a married man entertaining this affair; cause my heart does not belong to the silence, when you call my name.

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

Both are now withered black, and dead.

Much like my love for you.