I've made so many mistakes
That it's hard to have regrets.
I've broken
And been broken.
Loved
And been loved.
Hated
And been hated.
Been lost
And then found.
So much has been learned
So much taken place
So what do I do now?

Make better mistakes.

Wander the Earth
Little heart.
Looking for some place.

Some place safe to rest.
Where you need not harden,
Or be ready to pack your leaden bags.

Some place you can be held
Without fear of falling
To the cold and lonely dirt.

Wander until you find this place.
Don't stop to think.
Or feel.
Or consider.
Just keep wandering
In search of some place safe
To rest your broken parts.

Poor little metal man
With your rusted bones
And creaking heart.
Cowering within
Your hollow shell
Of heartbreak and mistrust.
Walking through these halls,
Watching bright hearts
With hooded eyes
And a closed bust.
You will never know
How to love yourself
And because of this,
Will always be lost.

Ash upon my lips
Flame underneath my fingertips
A flaming soul in my vision,
But such smooth motion with those lovely hips.

The taste of danger in the air
The smell of smoke
Hidden in her umber hair
My heart stops its beat
And surrenders itself
For her to declare.

A smoker's kiss
So bitter, so sweet
A taste of Hell
And a devil I'm to meet.

You cannot even begin
To imagine the heat at which
My body burns next to yours.

As if fire courses through my veins
And my world becomes brighter,
Yet darker
As the sole spotlight of my focus
Rests on you.
Your lips.
Your eyes.
Your hands.

My hands shake as you guide them,
My breaths deepen as you stall them,
My heart struggles
Against the fiery chains you place around it

You cannot imagine
The wild fire
That you've started inside me.

These cloudy days
When the air is cold and soft,
Like the memory of a kiss,
Of a lover lost to the world.

When the rain drizzles down
Fine and slow,
Caressing the skin,
Like a silk blanket
Made of air
And frost
And whispers.

These cloudy days,
When the grey of the sky
Seduces the sea into a darker danger
And I can hear my heart beating
To the rhythm of the wind carrying the rain.
It's theses days
That I love the most.

It bothers me
That you, my love, could be out there,
Out in this world of beauty and danger.
Dancing among the wolves
As the fires of the sky rise and fall.
It bothers me
Because here I sit
In a glass box of inhibition
And unwanted fear,
Wanting nothing more
Than to find you
And dance with you
Among the wolves
As the fires of the sky rise and fall.

How tragic it must be
To be so contained within yourself
Locked away in a cage
Of broken bones and dreams.
So trapped by inhibition
That none may ever hope
To see the world of beauty
Behind those waterfall eyes.

She was not an angel
By any definition.
She was wild,
Dangerous,
With emotions as violent
As the crack of a whip,
And a glint in her eyes
That made me envy her prey.
No.
She was not an angel
She was the embodiment
Of willful damnation.

This blood is poison.
It flows and races,
And kills without malice.
I am not the victim
It is not my heart it attacks,
For my heart is too black.
Too poisonous in itself.
No, this blood will poison you
My love
Should you touch my heart
Feel my passion,
My pleasure,
My pain
This poison in my veins will **** you
And blacken
Your beautiful heart

We broken creatures
Cannot survive ourselves
Without sadness.
Happiness,
Such a fleeting thing,
Would wane and weaken
Until happiness became melancholy...
We love and hate
The depths of our sadness,
And relish those beautiful moments
When we are saved from ourselves.

There is no greater betrayal
Than to believe yourself
Underserving
Of the love and happiness,
The acceptance,
That so discreetly powers our souls...

But even so,
I am a traitor unto myself