Bodies smashing
lights flashing
skulls crashing against ***** sinks
and kids are snorting another line because what else is there to do but die.
I'm in a tight black dress,
one I starved myself into,
one I grind in
with empty dreams of ballet shoes
and you are not here anymore, because only fools have *** with an empty shell of a girl,
and we both know that you have never been a fool.
I stare at the red glow of the ceiling and watch my red flow down the drain
while I blink
to see your smile
to see a million smiles
I blink to remember that I smiled once, too.

Long walks, long talks under the south sky, we knew it was love
December, snowflakes, cold night but you made it warm
White gown, black suits, sweet vows, but that’s not how it ends
Black lies, midnight fights, angry cries, we know it’s not love (not anymore)
  
This is the morning when the French man curses Paris
This is the morning when the sun loses its light
This is the morning when promises become lies
This is the morning when are love kisses the lips of goodbye
  
Chorus:
Because on the eighteenth, summer turns to winter
All that we have withers
Everything warm and bright fades on the arm of September
I can ******* tears, I can feel my fears
You walk away with no words of love to remember
  
Whiskey, dancing under the night sky, I have heard you died
November, tears fall, sorrow cripples like a thief
Ugly box, pale cheeks, another goodbye, I pray to see you breathe
Regrets, lost love, indecent goodbyes, you left me twice
  
This is the morning when the French man turns to dust
This is the morning when he takes his life
This is the morning when memories fake the aches
This is the morning when even fears and tears can’t bring you back
  
Chorus:
Because on the eighteenth, summer turns to winter
All that we have withers
Everything warm and bright fades on the arm of September
I can ******* tears, I can feel my fears
You walk away with no words of love to remember
  
Coda:
Your awkward smile, your deep blue eyes
Old  photos will remind they’re once alive
Your broken dreams with an unfinished song
No more Tuesday nights for you to sing along
  
Because on the eighteenth of September there’s no morning, only mourning

Life is full of strange little things
Like the fact that
None of us have ever actually seen our faces
Only our reflections
That seems so strange
All the people you've seen cry, all the smiles you have witnessed
But you have never viewed your own?
Eyes, brown or blue or green
Deep and sad, light and happy
A myriad of teeth and lips
Crooked noses, freckles
You can take them in on anyone and everyone
Except for yourself
I just think its strange
That you never get to see
The real you

If you've wondered why I shy from bathing in your eyes
-it's because I'm terrified of where you'll drain me.
Refraining
Abstaining
From explaining why my brain chains itself to the thought of you.
The thought of you-
Remains coursing through my veins like heavy doses of *******;
I can not restrain the rain that steadily maintains its downfall along the inner walls of my thighs
If I jump inside your eyes,

Will you bathe me?

I slide into your eyes, and wonder just how long you will permit me to stay there.
Your pupils trace the bases of
Craving
Braving across my face
And I wonder if you can feel the pace in which the taste of you runs through the recollection section of my dome
And I wonder if the flare behind the glare of your stare is enough to slide you
Home.