I  need a girl,
who's smile,
I fall into love with so much,
that her smile drives me to capture,
those single moments of her,
in a form of colors
on my easel.

Detrimental to these planes,
this blade is like a courtesan to these veins. Her love is slow and hard because the pressure is in her hand.

I touched your skin,
and I had to pray for Heaven's sake.
Your skin was a lullaby written in brail under my fingers tips.
I fell asleep playing your song over and over again.

You always looked good in dark suits with golden buttons on your cuff. Those were always a nice touch, to stand side your perfect figurine.
You were everything I once wanted. But now, you really aren't.

I see the rushing of the real truths of you, swell into your own hands, dropping a ball, losing your own special touch of sportsmanship with not much of a fuss. You're letting yourself lose the game.
Just letting ***** of truth squirt out through your veins.

You're losing your grip right out from your own polished finger tips and dripping red of blood.

You constantly try to pull white handkerchiefs of innocence from the wrists of your cuffs. But, those handkerchiefs are all just red...
Don't try and gamble a bad hand if you can't keep up. You never could keep a good bluff.

Разблюто’ — это когда тебе разбили сердце, и ты после этого очень сильно напился, до тошноты. Вот тогда в организме все разблюто.

I am sorry
But, you stumbled in your lies,
and, you hurt me with goodbye.
And, I am sorry-I cant lie,
your words were more deveined,
back when I told that I can hide,
under these layers of pride.
That I have built up over lives,
of people who have affected me.
In more ways,
than I can describe,
but I can no longer
stand side,
to the words that I prided to never lie of,
Under the blood vessels that rumble
Of empathy and our dalliance
Of words more than humble
through my razbliuto of you.

I often ponder on why, there are so many explicit days that encounter my way.

At first, you loved me like spring,
and you lingered like winter.
But, then you start to tease like fall,
and you end up running like summer.

Just tell me why your feelings feel like the change of seasons?