I was a tragedy
But you thought
I was a comedy

I hope you don't mind
that I love you.

Your tears taste like vinegar;
bitter, angry, unforgiving.
Stare into the fire,
the dancing flame,
the warmth on chilled skin.
Reach out for it,
but never touch.
How did I become such a monster?
I didn't meet her until
the day she died.
I never understood:
This was living;
damaged, empty, alone,
but this was living.

A man once told me
that hands say more than lips
and eyes cannot lie.

So I knew,
when your hand struck my face,
and your gaze hardened;
the apologies on your lips
meant nothing.

Does he take care of you?
Does he hold you when you cry?
Does he listen to your fears
and share his own with you?
Where do you feel things?
He feels fear is his throat,
you feel it crawling up your spine
like spiders with too many legs.
What if he doesn't feel
love the same way as you?
That burning, like a shot of *****,
Like you swallowed fire.
What if you don't feel the same?

Have you slept?
(No)
but I dreamed of you.
     It wasn't really a dream
it was a nightmare.
              Have you slept?
(No)
    Then it wasn't a dream.
Was it a nightmare?
     Are you afraid of me?
(Yes)
            *    It was a nightmare.

With every breath,
You exhale fear.
With every gasp,
You inhale death.