he was a desperate and lonely plea in the dark, she a nervous laugh and waning spark
together they scared one another off but contrast bade them compliments
and one without the other leaves a bad taste in my mouth

These many scars whisper I should have died young.

As I observe from my slate perch I can't help but wonder
if we're all meant to be old
or if some of us feel this discomfort in grown worlds
because we've passed our expiration date.

a knife in hand
wouldn't turn your head
strewn on the floor
you would leave me dead
with little notice
for the girl in red.

I hold you in the highest esteem
I hold you in the dark of night
I wish you held me.

you swallow glass to
cleanse your insides
and make room for
clear cut crystals.
holding hope out
in a dish for more
more high flying
death defying
pixie dust.

I am neither good nor bad,
Happy nor sad,
Ethereal and wordless
I transcend to
Nothingness.