Love is not colorful.
Love is black and white.
My tears are blue,
the blood I bleed is red,
my bruises purple,
my envy green.
All these feelings
are technicolor,
demanded to be seen;
felt.
Love sends your mind into a
black out.
Love is just passion fading from
white to grey.
Love is just a blank page;
the light from heaven.
Living is colorful.
Loving is death.

Tonight- he called
Down to me
To deliver a message
For the whole world to see

Envision a place
Where it is safe to dream
Jesus, our savior
Created the land of the free

And if you are ever in need
"Ask and you shall receive"
For Jesus- is the only one
That will never leave

When life gives you lemons
Make lemonade
Because Jesus our savior
Will always come to your aid

As long as you -continue to pray

The heart has become cold as stone
Love is confined to the solitary confines
Feelings straitjacketed with force
Hands that once caressed left immobile
Cannot wipe the tears of remorse
Soul is restrained to regain any feelings
Strangulating every ounce of hope
Love, once that spoke of a future
Now, has made the present, a torture

Your name is imprinted
in my mouth,
under my tongue and
scraping down my lungs,
your fingertips are finding
holes in my body
that other people have left,
and you have a piece of string
and you're trying to stitch me
back together,
sewing the holes
shut,
kissing my scars that,
if they ever reopen,
and i swear it would be an
accident,
they would bleed your name.
And your nails have left
a mark on my back,
as if by digging in hard enough,
you could make art on a
canvas made of skin
and I don't think you know this,
but, by sewing the holes shut,
you wrapped the broken bones in my
body back up,
I remember when I tried to
glue my bones back together
with glue that never actually
worked, and I never tried
stitching them up like you did.
I like to imagine you made a
row of ribbons along my
ribcage that spell out your name.
And someday, maybe these
broken bones will be fixed,
with cracks along every single
one of them that scream your
name like the air in my lungs
do, and I guess that's okay.

I want a glass of bubbles
To warm my icy throat
And thaw my tongue,
Which always seems to be too frozen
To say anything right.
And I want to chase the fire down
With your kisses.
I want my heart to slow down,
Just a little,
Enough to keep in time with my
Lazy thoughts of you.

I want to hear your voice
Like a velvet dress,
Clinging to my body
In whispers of never letting go.
And I want to feel cold again
While you go out for a smoke.

And I just want to watch you
As you tug on those **** sticks,
Looking like a kind of mystery
I could ponder over for years.

I want to watch the smoke come off your lips,
I think I’m learning to like the smell
Of your smoky clothes.
And suddenly I’m as addicted to you,
As you are to them.
And I’m jealous
Because I want to be your addiction
And suddenly I’m like a cigarette
And that’s weird.