I want to be the one who drives you insane.
Late night, cigarette smoke, kiss me and don't let me go.
Drive me to where I can see the stars and infinite galaxies.

***** on my breath and you're the only one who can make me tick.
I want to get under you skin like you get under mine.
I want to slow dance in the dark to the static of an A.M. radio.

I want to be lovers and friends.
I want to know what you look like when the sun kisses your face in the early morning.
I want to know what you look like when you cry

I want to see your face and your lips when you whisper, "I love you".
I want you to remind me who is always in charge as you slightly graze my throat with your hand-
And I let a Cheshire smile slowly appear on my face.

Yes, I still think about you pushing me up against my car.
I mean, why wouldn't I?
At times I swear I can still smell your breath on my mouth.
It's the craziest getting lost, thinking about you.
It slowly becomes a crazy spiral of abnormalities of sorts.
You're a jagged edge stuck in my brain and if I pull you out,
I lose all sensation of what love actually is.
I am a lost mouse running through a maze, looking for any help along the way.
From your skinny jeans, to your jaw-
Your beard, to your menthol cigarettes-
To watching you drive away-
I'll gladly go through all of it, all over again.
Maybe one time, it will end differently.

You're not the bad guy that my friends make you out to be.
They don't know the whole story and I don't want them to.
There is something special about keeping our story private.
It's like our little secret.
It's the only thing I have left of you and I want to hold it and hide it away deep in my heart, where only I can visit.

I know...
I am not one of the pages of your book
or the words in your poem
But...
I will tirelessly watch over you from every nook.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the potrait you are painting
or the inspiration behind your masterpieces
But...
in my heart , it is your name I am engraving.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the reason for your smiles
or the tickles of your laughter
But...
for you, I would walk a thousand miles.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not your shining star
or the light in your life
But...
till forever is through, I'll admire you from afar.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the one your heart beats for
or the one you desire
But...
my hearts says as long as it brings you happiness,
it wants nothing more.

I know I am your never
**but you will forever be my always...

We're the kind of mess people see as art
We have flaws people see as curves and edges
We have scars that remind people of our defeat, pain and struggles
We're a map of everything we've been through

Don't tell me I'm beautiful.
Look deep into my soul, past my scars, and tell me I have a beautiful heart.

Don't tell me you want to make love to me.
Let me in the place your demons live and make me love you in spite of them.

Don't tell me you want to love me the rest of our lives.
Make me believe it's possible to build a life with you.

Don't tell me you love me.*
Show me in so many ways that there is no doubt in my mind and I just know it.

My beating heart has been ripped out my pulsating blood flow.
Those jagged claws dissects through my chest, one sharp finger at a time
I can smell the rust from my open wound traveling through the air. I glance at your left hand and saw the blood gushing from the artery.
My heart may not work but my mind will.
I wonder, do you feel remorse because I don’t, nothing but numb.
Yet you stand there too,
nothing but silence and your words lipping
“i love you”.
yet you bruised my black and blue soul, that was once gold.
Makes me think that is another fib that you tell, just because you might as well.

You try to bandage it up by shoving it back into my punctured chest.
but at this point I’ve become restless.
I fall into the ground wishing you’d save me,
instead following me to the ground but kneeling above me,
sewing my hole shut by gouging the tiny needle one thread at a time.
I am mangled.
Your thumb and forefinger held my wrist and led for a kiss
until you felt my pulse stop.
I’m sorry, this is all my fault.