My sister sold her soul to sew her heart up;
she didn't know the thread was made of thorns.

Her words are sweet and simple,
yet their sharp edges convey the truth.
How ironic an intention, we lie to those we love--
but false words cannot hide the hopeless.

And talking will not erase tragedy.

Experience has etched into her soul,
and it will forever taunt her.
You cannot forget the past. You cannot change it.
Happy lies will never heal a broken heart.

*The irony.

Our tattered hearts cannot forget that evening,
you cut off your tongue and sold it to the devil.
It has never been the same.

You say we use and abuse you, for all that you're worth.
I say we're better off without you.
**Don't come back.

I try to care.
I do.

Time clings desperately
hold to a past with such meaning.
Change has pushed apart
a friendship which was once so close.

Try to prolong connection
while new focuses divert our direction.
I put forth effort in such continuation
and grasp onto what is left.

You let me go so effortlessly.

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

Despite what you do and say,
trying to convince me
of your care.
I can see through you.

I see the way you treat the others
who I hold so dear
and love.
I can see through you.

Please don't try any longer
to get any closer
to me.
Prolonged pain lingers deep within.

Nothing can replace the past;
the anger and emotions
ever haunting.
Pessimistic thoughts tied to each beloved.

My troubled soul still aching;
filtering old complaints
and memories
which try to hide from truth itself.

Methods to cope with dull reality;
to ease the pain once more
which resides.
I can see through you.

I** fall in love with passion.

The way someone's face lights up when they talk.
The way they can't get enough of something they really, really like.
The way they thirst for adventure and experience.
The way they never stop dreaming and believing because they have that much faith that it will, one day, be worth it.
The way they always build people up and make others feel like they're floating on clouds.
The way they do things they may not love, for the people they love.

And that's why I've fallen in love with you.

I whisper the same words to all who pay attention
yet, to all, conveyed is a different image.

Restrained to the page I lie, free for interpretation
both depth and simplicity, words without age.

I am myself, but I am each who read me
The outlet of untold thoughts begging desperately

to be free.