My perception of you
is a reflection of me
of all I once knew
and all that I see

Your reception of me
is a reflection of you
of all that you see
and all you once knew

Nothing we see
Is entirely true
If both you and me
Set our mirrors askew

Eye to eye
Heart to Heart
We realize we
Are all a part

Heart to heart
Eye to eye
We realize love
Will never die

See into
each other's minds
With all our mirrors
now aligned

Through each other
We can see
We reflect forever
to infinity

Dear Queen,
Are you real? Or just part of my imagination
Cos lately you've given my eyes an occupation
Staring at you is work, and everyone in the room is employed
That sharp dress cut my tongue out and got me speechless
If the dress could cut my head open and read my mind
The only thing it would see is a reflection of itself
Cos all I think about is you, and you may not be real
But you're true
The silence you cause in the room, when you walk in
People stop talking, its akward.
You're on stage, you steal everyone's attention, like a thief
Attention is really cheap, but not everyone pays attention.
Its crazy right? How a queen falls for a pauper
The only way I could ever leave, is if I ...

Stop thinking.

Yours truly
the boy at the back

You made me cry
Not because you upset me or anger me
But because I opened up to you & slowly I am allowing you to tear me open, I am letting you know me, ****** me and it's scaring the crap out of me, like what if you hurt me yes, it feels nice now but I won't want to admit that I am falling for you more and more everyday that is why I push you away I just can't bear to be hurt again I'm not ready but I never liked what ifs so I will take the chance of getting hurt and love you in the meantime, I'll even yell it to the world like a foolish woman

Insomnia
I wish so dearly that you could see my love for you
but it's stuck in my chest
and all I have to express this completion and warmth
that you give me
are symbols and sounds
triviality, symbols, sounds... Don't come close
To what is real, when you're near

The summer insects celebrate the coming
of seasons as I lay in my cot, and ponder
of how I hate the changing of weather
because It reminds me of how I'm dying
and I feel like a lonely magazine laying on a coffee table
in a deserted office, once all the tired peons have gone
to their restful homes
I sit, in darkness, immobile, yet waiting
for something unfathomable
I'm thinking
I wish so dearly that my love could see what I feel, but It's trapped in my chest
and these seasons passing drives me insane. I just remembered I'm dying.
Dying.
dying.
Sleep.