Seeming as though they want to crawl inside
I invite every word you sowed into my home

Restless they skitter into every corner of my room
Make themselves comfortable in my bed
Unslept in, untidy

I click my pen absentmindedly at the desk as I write
But each sentence is a copy of your kisses

You came, paved the road through icy snow
And I don’t want to reject your passion
Perhaps because, akin to my features
I am unloved

The only one there for me
The only fickle heart that
Didn’t always seem so worthless

This world revolves around an atmosphere of
Shaky hands and nervous glances
Long walks and apologies

No matter how many times I laugh
It isn’t enough to silence the poor restive dog
But the door to the backyard is locked
Don’t make me find the key

The smell of cherries,
Rich, tangy, sweet,
Like syrup dripping down through my water,
Leaving my lungs filled with nauseatingly, gorgeous pink,
Outside the window’s damp metallic screen.
It pulls my eyes out,
Leaving across the city,
Dark and screaming as it is.
Screaming to be worth something,
To be known,
And all we are is above, in the clouds.
Pink, suffocatingly high,
All around us the air sings,
And I am choking,
Colliding with the atmosphere,
The heart envelops the mind,
I am here again,
All metal.
Waking nightmare,
The smell of cherries.

There is beauty in my pain.
Yes, if you mean,
Those effervescent tears,
Streaking down your flawless cheeks.
If you mean that romanticized,
Clear blood you lie in.

Darling, you were already bewitching.
You were born from the sky,
A divine demonstration of mortal virtue.
There is no beauty in your pain,
There is merely pain amongst your beauty.