He asked me to paint him
With the blood on my lips
So I began to kiss
All the broken parts of him

It took the gift and loss of love
The joining and breaking of hearts
To come to the realization
That feeling is an art

I mimic your hands
Clawing my stomach and back
But I have a knife instead
And blood spills from the cracks

It flows when I call out your name
And paints my bed and sheets
If only you’d come back
Then you’d see my masterpiece

Why is it that
In a room
Of people

That I still want to die
Right in front of everyone
But really
I would just disappear
And I wouldn’t be in front
Of anyone
But myself.

Death would be a fine thing
If I could magically disappear
For one second
And temporarily never come back.

Isn’t it such a fine thing to feel
Like I’m going to die alone.
What a fine thing if
I could forget how to feel,
For one second.

Death would be a fine thing
To dissapear for one second only

Maybe I will die today,
Maybe I am dead.
The song of day rattles in my head
As though it is the last
Of many faint tunes
Distant in blankets of snow
And tears ran cold.
And I think I am dead,
Lead me back for I am scared,
I know not where I step,
I know not of myself in this world
It all seems sad,
To wish death at mornings break
And to regret it within nights blinding dark

Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul