Her heart
Was the most beautiful place
The only place
I would ever call home.

I look at you and see that smile,
But is it sweet or sinister, I know not.
I stare at those eyes,
And they flicker from blue to red.
What should I believe, the good or the bad?

Your touch feels warm and welcoming,
But your embrace feels cold and cynical.
Your words make me want to believe you,
But that voice, it holds me back.

Your soft palms trace my face,
And yes, I do feel a pang of love somewhere.
But there always is that thing holding me back,
When I feel those cold fingers on my skin.

Are you the devil or the angel,
I honestly can't say.
You may be the angel you claim to be,
Or the devil you want to be.
But I don't know, I don't know
What you are, what you are
To me.

it's about learning that love doesn't come with an address
rather, a skeleton you hung in the subconscious element of your closet
i'm learning the grey area that resulted in the clash of our existences is something i don't fundamentally need
three days ago i realized its something i don't want
hey i'm still writing to you as if it were my career and i'm learning that
with you, i never had to taste the metallic tone of closure
i just, left. you didn't know
my last "i love you" would be the last and
instead of writing you novels and sobbing in between
every page, i stomped my feelings into bottles and lately i've been busy imagining the emotion that comes along with splitting a fine wine thats festered in my gut for quite some time
maybe i'll share it with my mirror,
sleeping on the floor is becoming much too frequent as is getting drunk off of emotion, only to
wish you were here