When in love without a lover,
all one can do is write poetry,
talking over one’s heart.

He had pretty eyes
And seductive lips
He told me
That i turn him on
I just laugh it off
But little did he know
He had turn me on first

it's like holding the world in your hands
and letting it slip from your grasp.
like owning the most beautiful, priceless
piece of artwork the universe will ever let their
eyes get a taste of, and letting it burn in the fire.
this is the emptiness they tried to warn us about.
it's burning aches in the middle of the night
because you can't quite close that wound.
it's constant pain that no amount of medicine
can fix.