Wilted, dead roses.
Red velvet turned into dust.
Fake poses, filtered for comfort.
A life filled with lust.

Trampled on roses,
breaking at the touch.
Love loses every time,
shaking with fear and a blush.

Clouds drift against scarred wrists,
Lines and lines of never ending twists.
Paper people holding hands,
Sitting quietly in a plastic land.

Fingers brushing past
but never interlocking.
Their stems too scared to stand,
ignorant minds throbbing.

This town is garden
of weak petals.
Their creases dripping with blood,
people drowning in the mud.

We are living in a crumpled
up piece of paper.
Eyes thundering with vicious jealousy,
up to no good.

Shiny red apples are cuddled tightly by the leaves,  
Tag you're it and hide and seek went on for days.
Secrets told and wishes unleashed
On a rusty swing set stained with memories.

Chaos and noise consume the house,
Mud dripping from our dainty size one shoes
As she fills up the jug with water
And sprinkles it like sugar over the daffodils.

Plant pots are kept outside in the garden,
They look up and smile with their little green faces.
Perhaps they are her other grandchildren,
Although they can't remember the stories she always told.

Silver silk slips through my fingers like fairy dust,
The pink duvet is a sugarcoated blanket of safeness
In a world so full of witches casting evil spells
And creating vigorous snow storms.

Exquisite jewellery glittering from the bedside table,
Her makeup and perfumes excite ten year old me
As I sit at her mirror, pretending to be like her.
A woman with inspiring dreams and a heart of wonder.

What we manifest
is something so dishonest
and i hate to say it
but i stopped loving you.
All of the birthdays
have faded to dispersive
greying clouds and unsaid
words but never hate.
Just dead sympathy for
the kind things you didn't say
while you were still alive.
See, I finally got the words out.
And they will still want me
to be upset. I'm not but I am.
I'm still. Just still.

Lonely like Lazuli,
i haven't been
how i used to be.
Not been inspired
like i should be.
Not been loving
like you want me to be.

Lonely like Lazuli,
i lay in a pool of sapphires,
and i know i could
be much better.
I am something more
than sad eyes
and poetic suicide.