Recurrent words, boiled your blood,
The same that painted my roses red.
But those flowers no longer grow,
Where your thoughts turned sour.
We parted with seeds left to sow,
In strong minds full of power, no more.
Where the rain turns beautiful,
An unusual question becomes an answer.
In a deeply melancholic cave,
The surface of a stoic puddle, turns dancer.

Hold my heart close,
It believes it's sleeping,
But you sung it to insanity.
Now it's too dead,
To realize that it's screaming.

You'll be okay with me,
And I with you.
Set ablaze, burn the sea.
Eyes bright, an indigo hue.
With the crushing weight of nothing,
Fallacies are born,
Setting fire to your words, never bluffing.

Can eyes boil?
Frothy, glazed gazes,
Steaming into all-seeing clouds.

Minds can melt, I'm sure.
Flowing into tendrils of emotion,
Searching for victims to soothe.

Hearts cannot sing, cannot weep,
With tears forming worlds, purely out of desire,
Creating remembering ebbs, longing for limerence.

I'm cutting my hands to bone,
Trying to pick them up,
Shattered memories of heart,
That I never wore upon my sleeve.
Quick, painful glances,
No longer longing stares, stealing.
Lost words, shared thoughts and,
Differing views of past futures,
All coiled into a cold noose,
By which I'll enter your world.

Sad, half-jazz songs.
Smokey table views.
Dimly lit cantering, cigars lit,
Softly droning drums,
Rhythmic, longing-filled voices,
And a silently humming pianist.
All, hard at sloth, least at work.

You know you,
No better,
Than I know myself.
Infatuated.
With the dying ideas,
Of glimmers.
Not of hope, but,
Impossibilities.
I don't mean to.

Builds ups.
Racing hearts and,
Escalating chests.
Precursing,
The death of everything.
Not made.

Hectic clashes of empowered,
Godlike forces.
Torrential.
All within,
The unsteady beating of my heart.