It is only when one feels the hurt
That one truly understands
That love is similar to a game of poker
It is sweet yet sorrowful at the same time
Slowly you allow yourself to focus in the poisonous goal of winning the game
That you forget the possibility of losing everything

Become the dark
Become what you fear the most
And you might just see the light

Alluring eyes
Good enough to hypnotise

perpetual grace
    Not a movement out of place

The wolf yearning

Thirsty
                              Greedy
            Lusting
                                                Craving

Twinkeling desires
Breed up like wildfire

the angels ****** me up with their blue heavenly demon eyes
and still everything just seems more clear here on the other side

you were white and I was black, you were the sun and I the moon
most of the time we belonged to each other, we just never belonged

it was a game for the one's who wanted to play, you never wanted to play

love was like walking when there was no rain, walking in the sun
and leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did, until I did it

you never loved reading books the way I did, we were different
but again we always knew that we were not the same human being

this boy would consider himself smart when I could only see sadness
his broken dreams made me question my own broken little world

I wanted to escape for the summer, maybe for the rest of my life
living my life on the run, forever avoiding your killer green eyes

I could never swim in cold water and you were never here to teach me

I was high for so long
that it was only a matter of time before
I came crashing
                            d
                              o
  ­                              w
                                 ­  n
                                      .

when last have i had a 3am kind of conversation,
with my star like emotions scattered all over the darkest parts of me,
mimicking the sky,
my moon like persona that always returns back to hiding me away.  
when last have i felt safe enough to let somebody in,
to not have visions of my vulnerability being tied to the bed after he locks the door behind him,
his voice like some sort of broken record that keeps on repeating that
"it's gonna be okay."
when last have i had a shoulder to cry on that isn't my own,
for my neck to stop worrying that the tear filled sea on either side won't get waves big enough to drown me.  
when last okay,
when last has it felt good to be me.

WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HOW SCARED SHE IS. WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HOW SHE WATCHES THE WAY SHE WALKS, BECAUSE THE LAST TIME SHE FELL IN LOVE, SHE HIT THE GROUND. AND SHE WOULD OFFER HIM HER HEART BUT IT'S BEEN EATEN AT AND STORED IN A DOGGY BAG AROUND A CORNER WITHIN HER CHEST - AND SHE CANNOT HELP BUT ALWAYS FEEL LEFTOVER. WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THAT SHE'S SCARED OF FEELING.
BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FEEL HER BACK.