Rip me apart
and
salvage my
soul,

tear me
to pieces
and pretend
you cared at all.

The devil is sweeter
than the lies on your lips,
his wrath tastes better
than the rage you sip.
You've poisoned yourself
with guilt and greed
instead of seeing
what you really need.

Pick me up off the shelf,
dust me off and fix my hair.

You like playing with dolly,
don't you?

You like not having to see
emotions in her eyes,

not having to feel
hesitation in her skin.

Fix my dress and
tie my shoes,

you like not having
to fall in love with her voice,

you like not having
to feel her heart beat,

don't you,
keeper?

You like having her as
only an item,

you like not having
to feel a thing.

Blood drips from the stars
while lungs inhale the melancholy
as simply as breathing in
the lies we believe in every night.

It's puddling about the night sky,
patching the holes where our
wishes burned too bright,
where our hopes were pulverized.

The taste of tin fills my tongue
as sweet as your love,
I'm swallowing the blood of
every love that's ever died

and I'm drowning further and further,
because no matter how many
times I’ve wished,
love will always die.

I wish that I was concrete,

so that when I break,
flowers grow in my cracks

instead of painful memories.

my heart is falling out
of my chest
my hands are too
slippery
from tears
i
cant pick it up
its getting
***** and
dark
i cant see it
anymore
what do you
do when
you cant hear
the beats
what do you
do when
you cant wish on
dandelions
anymore

when im
out all alone
i feel like an
empty jar
with stains
on the inside
of lost
blood and
stray tears
and with
***** fingerprints
holding too tightly
around my neck

She tasted of blue -
a lonely taste
filled with
carnival rides
and
bitter goodbyes.

The sun swallowed my fingers
when I tried to touch the moon,

the ground cut my knees
when I fell while trying to fly,

the sky took my breath away
when a smile started to take place.

My heart was a canvas
since it was bled dry,

now waking takes twice the effort,
and sleeping doesn't fulfill my wish to die.

roses die and
lovers lie,

lips get tied and
eyes open wide.

love is strange and
love is a bumpy ride,

love is for chumps and
love is for believers,

love is for silly things and
love is for see-ers.

a word that finds its way
on every tongue,

but rarely finds its home
in a heart for long.

a feeling everyone thinks they know
but has everyone playing a fool,

for the wise that have loved know that
they never loved at all,

and the fools that loved know that
they'll never have it all.