Oh, how subtle a smile.
A gentle trace of what was once;
inside she is dying.

Broken conversations,
empty lungs,
doors half open,
hearts almost out of love.

We used to talk of how
we used to be infinite.
But now every second now feels
like a stroke against an unforgiving current.

Our conversations broke
as the flaws of our souls
fell through the cracks of this glass foundation.

These upset words that escaped you
left the air around me a little sad,
a little awake,
and with a lot of echoes.

My lungs went empty
talking you down.

I left the door open for you.
So you can walk in
and slip in quietly-
I won't say a word.

And this heart could never go empty,
not mine.
Yours,
at this point,
I know not.

Flowers never lost their color
as long as you walked this earth.

Eyes are covered
Hands are bound
Sound has been silenced
Numbness washes over every inch of skin and tissue
Sorrow has become my air
Self pity my fuel
Misery my only companion
Locked in my mind, a move replays over and over
Reliving every failure, every loss, every disappointment, every lie
Drowning in what if
Suffocating in the darkness of the past
The light of day brings no joy, only aggravation
The endless chatter of the world becomes a sting to my heart
A torture to endure.
A overwhelming tug at my heart strings
A feeling of future turmoil
The pit of my stomach physically hurts, Pain
Waiting for an impending doom
Lost without a shred of hope
Why has my faith betrayed me?
Why can't I shake this feeling?
Feels as if I am living in a nightmare never able to awake.

Why Damon, why, why, why so pressing?
The Heart you beg's not worth possessing:
Each Look, each Word, each Smile's affected,
And inward Charms are quite neglected:
Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish Swain,
And sigh no more, no more in vain.

Beauty's worthless, fading, flying;
Who would for Trifles think of dying?
Who for a Face, a Shape, wou'd languish,
And tell the Brooks, and Groves his Anguish,
Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him,
And all, and all beside despise him?

Fix, fix your Thoughts on what's inviting,
On what will never bear the slighting:
Wit and Virtue claim your Duty,
They're much more worth that Gold and Beauty:
To them, to them, your Heart resign,
And you'll no more, no more repine.

I wanted to **** I wanted
taste there blood, but I had
one problem I'm scared at
the sight of blood.

I thought I could do it, Dexter
did it, he even thought it was
devilish fun. But I had the knife
the plastic bags, I was ready for
my serial fun, but I cut my self
with my knife and fainted in a lump.

They found me days later a knife
buried in my chest, ****** was
the case, but it was my fear of blood
my undoing not anyone else.

I didn't get to go on a spree to
feed my blood lust. For I did ****
but unfortunately it was me, I
was the one, I  am a serial flop.
As you can see only one was
murdered and no one will no
its was me...

I am slowly (but surely)
   stumbling
      crashing
         falling
            for you...