Trapped in a fatal instinct.
I carry an ideal of a prince,
When I find someone of those qualities
I reach out.
I reach out in desperation for that kindness.
But my hand lowers as I take in the view,
between the Prince and I,
a field.
A field of broken glass
and the unruly truth
that I will bleed out
before ever reaching him.
I venture a few anchored steps forward,
feeling the glass cut into my skin
but again, I will bleed out.
So I stay behind the field of glass,
hand pressed against a window.
I remain in my dark corner,
shrouded in monsters,
because monsters make sense.
The prince, he is a silly ideal,
But the Monsters aren't.
The monsters let me breath easy
and though coated in violence
I feel safe.
It's hard to explain why,
but I suppose it's rather simple,

The kind ideal of that Prince is silly and terrifying,
but the monsters aren't,
because the monsters make sense.

Inside a mind that wasn't mine
I somehow came to realize
That where I took my thoughts before
Would never matter anymore

The roads I paved had disappeared
And deemed me faulty engineer
Disgraced the pace, upon my face
She saw the wall and did not wait

Suppose I'd tell you what to say
You used to ask me every day
And when I'd talk you'd tune your ears
Then cover up in salty tears

The sea would claim the life you lost
Return to you the latter lot
You held it close so many times
And claimed the right to reconcile

Yet here we are in subs and pars
Collected into mason jars
I'll shatter you, you'll shatter me
Our fragile state will set us free

Look, if you leave me tomorrow,
I will first go
to your side of the bed and
lie there.
I  will fit my body into the shape of yours
whose frail form has already been imprinted in the thin mattress.
I will place my palm where yours once was and I will memorize every rise and
every fall of your body
every curve
every straight line
every aching vertebrae that you never complained of
every stitch you never told me about
because you are stronger than anyone I know.

If you leave me tomorrow,
I will throw open your dusty cabinet doors
bury my face in your clothes
and I will smell your smell.
What is your smell?
I will smell you and pretend that
I'm burying my face
in you

If you leave me tomorrow,
I will die.
I will die.
I will die.
Maybe not all of me,
but a chunk that's half times two of me, that's for sure.

If you leave me tomorrow,
I will run out of the house
and visit that pile of debris overlooking the sickening city
my sanctuary
after you
and I will ache.
I will ache.

If you leave me tomorrow,
I will grab my pen
and write down everything about you
from the way your hair falls to the way you never, ever said
"I love you."
and that's okay because I will write about the way
you loved me with your fingers
with your slanted eyes
with your lifted brow
I will write because I am scared that I will forget
the little things that make you you.
your precision
your perfectionist ways
your scientific mind
your slow, strong stride
the way you tap the jar when the coffee's almost gone
because you hate wasting things and
I will remember that and hate the way
I am wasting.
I will create another you in my mind
one that
won't
leave me tomorrow.

I swear, if you leave me tomorrow, I'll...

I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.

Do you remember yesterday?
The day you loved me.

We wrote letters to tomorrow
and savoured every moment.
We floated in each others laughter
and you stole my misery from my lips.

Do you remember today?
The day you loved me.

We burnt the letters and wrote new ones for new people, and cringed waiting for the day to end.
The laughter was muffled by the sound of that ambulance they took you away in, and my misery planted itself in your lungs.

Do you think about tomorrow?
The day you love me.
Or, maybe the day you don't.
We'll stop writing letters, and we'll wash down yesterday with what the doctor ordered.
We'll listen to laughter that isn't ours and wonder why nothing is funny like it used to be.
My misery grew back like a **** in me, and you still haven't uprooted the **** thing out of your chest.

If only we could turn back the clock, and wind it differently.
Yesterday could have lasted.
Today might have been saved.
Tomorrow might not look so hopeless.

I don't know if your clock ever got fixed
But every day feels like tomorrow to me.

"You're my tool. I hope you remember that"*

The words were whispered to her
By a figure, sitting, cigarette clenched
Not yet lit; A lighter is tossed in her direction
She knows it isn't about their ego
It's a statement of her loyalty

Bends down on one knee
Kindles it with a match instead
Lighter still clutched in her hands
She walks out, leaving it on the table
Just beside the door

Let's play a game
Truth or dare let's take a chance
I dare you to tell you care
I date you to tell me all your thoughts
I dare you to tell me your happiness and sadness
I dare you to showe me a side that no one gets to
see but me
I dare you to show me your gentle side
your crazy side I can handle any side of you
I dare you to say "that I'm the only one that makes you feel this way"....
I dare you to tell me all your secrets
and give me all your trust
I dare you to give me a chance ...
Now I dare you to tell me the truth ..
Ok
The truth is you never cared in the first place right!
Cause I think I lost the game cause I fell in love
with it
Like a ****** dream I'm living in
Feels like I'm going to be giving in
I want a second chance to begin this game we
playing
Truth I cared to much and I gave it all to the
wrong person
And it killed the person I once was
Truth you were and addiction and
I needed you to get my fix in
Now its time to give you up like a bad habit
I can't have it
The truth is you were just a lie and
cheat in this game