Death and I have never been friends,
Nor have we been foes.
The look in its eyes does not show of terror,
But of pain and sorrow.
He has grown tired of the countless wars,
The agony of taking children before they're time.
Life has shown him so much beauty that he cannot touch.
For it will wither beneath his rough touch,
But he will watch it blossom from her hands.
The astounding white rose before it was soaked in blood,
If only he could smooth away the thorns that have pricked such caring hands.
Death is tired of being feared,
He wishes not to take your loved ones.
He wishes not to hurt you,
He wishes for a way to explain that this was not his choice.
It simply had to be this way.
Souls are meant to be reborn, and some aren't meant to return.
The eyes of Life have only hurt him worse,
For Death cannot love but little does this remain true.
But when he sees the creations that Life has made he cannot help but fall for her over and over again.
So maybe Death is not a friend nor is he foe.
Death is just my misunderstood acquaintance.

These thoughts, these thoughts,
Will spiral down the rabbit hole.
Upon thousands and thousands
No one can see inside,
These thoughts, these thoughts,
Such killers of mine
Call past the time,
That can no longer wait
How deep is this grave?
These thoughts, these thoughts,
The blood that runs through our veins,
Your skeletons in my closet
Are secrets of twisted fate.
These thoughts, these thoughts,
Oh how intriguing.
The thought of how;
If you could read my mind,
Would you be smiling?

I want to paint with the clouds,
Create a design so grand among the sky that even your God will admit it's profound.
With my words I want to design a life worth living for you and I,
Make all your dreams come true just to see your weary eyes smile again.
These broken hands of mine want so much to construct things for everyone else but me.
No money in return just a smile on your face can turn all the darkest days into the brightest,
Your eyes on mine give me such inspiration that to call you my muse would be unworthy.
Every last word could not express my need to give you the world just to save you before you leave me.

What if these words are my last?
Would the Raven makes its last cry
As if this is it and nothing more.
There would be no last page
Just an unexpected goodbye
Where our worlds would no longer collide.
What if?
I cannot live without seeing tomorrow knowing you're alive.
Tell me how your day went,
Tell me all the details you never get the chance to explain,
Tell me your thoughts throughout time and time again,
Tell me how you feel,
Please just let me know you.
Let me tell you,
I Love You
My grammar is improper for notice I didn't end that statement with a period.
For one purpose only,
Seemingly because the period is the ending of a sentence or the conclusion of one thing.
My dear understand that my love has no boundary and is endless;
So let me paint a sky with stars that will shine so much brighter with all the questions that start seemingly with,
what if?

Growing up I was told stories of love and life.
Of princesses who were swept off their feet by their princes,
A world of castles and dungeons.
With dragons and horse drawn carriages.
That whenever you met the person you were meant to be with that your heart would race, palms would sweat, and knees would go weak.
Or that you'd feel calm, no anxieties or insecurities.
I've slowly realized that the fantasy stories aren't real and that princes are not the ones to be looking for.
That when you love someone completely it's not always how physically close you are with them as people assume it to be.
It's when silence isn't awkward it's peaceful and comforting. To know when words aren't needed is a powerful thing.
How their laugh can just make the darkest days become the best.
To be able to talk like best friends but know that this is something more to each other.
That you can trust the other with anything. It's not a word taken lightly when you love someone.
A lesson well learned by many.
But I believe that no matter how long you've been with someone that when you fall in love with someone.
You know. It's not something you just assume. You truly and honestly know from the bottom of your heart that you love them.
The best feeling is knowing they feel the same.
They're not royalty but they're all you need and more.
That's the difference between the stories and reality.

The pictures made out of clouds.
During the afternoons in which we lied in the grass,
Pointing towards the sky,
Interpreting an artist who's passed work.
Just like their paintings in the museums.
Forever painted in my memory,
As we pointed towards the darkening sky.

Under city lights in the dead of night,
With the winter winds whispering against our cheeks,
As the stars come out to play,
With the buzz of cars in the fade,
Walking along these empty streets
I've come to term with the demons
That reside within me.
As you walk beside me I've started to notice the tempo in which you speak,
The melody of your words strung together so effortlessly,
How the pitch of your voice changes on various topics,
The feel of your hand holding ever so tightly onto mine.
And when our eyes meet yours hold a sight far more beautiful than the city's skyline on a starry night;
The moments I've wanted to last forever have never held the same euphoria.
As this is now and time can't stop to let me save this to heart without a constant battle of space,
The only place in which you reside within me.
So under these city lights and wondrous sky;
I'm trying to make this moment last for an infinity.