Words are ****.
I love words.
If you were a word I'd marry you.
I'd write you over and over and have *** with you.
Ill use my tongue a lot because that's what **** words like.
They like to roll against my tounge like a french kiss.
French words don't roll off my tongue.
The English words have run a muck.

We are mad as birds, in love in a dark home.
I wished I could be you.
In the drunken daze of submission with aggression,
in the Nicaraguan touch that has turned blue.
Touched by the cold trained tongue that you have become.

Both of us not right in the head.
Both of us not quite ready for bed.

You sit high on your thrown these days.
I weep for apologies at your feet and
I wish for months for your gilded heart
To take some time and remember me.
I remember in the beginning you were not so mean.

Both of us have made our bed
Both of us will die in it.

yeah

so we were stepping over sparkling paving stones
the air we breathed seemed to sparkle
and inhaling left a chill on my throat
the flawless silence was broken only
by the sound of her high heels
and the occasional passing car
I would glance at her
when I thought it might go unnoticed
and I loved how the orange glow from the streetlights
made her look warm when everything around us was so cold

'can I tell you something' she said
'sure'
'you can't tell anyone though'
'okay......'

'I'm engaged'

I stop walking

the silence suffocates me
I can't stop my eyes from falling
they search the pavement for answers
for something to say
I fake a smile and look back up laughing
'oh my god, that's amazing, congratulations"!

I put my arm round her shoulders and start us walking

'Aww you really think so'?

No