Where’s the step between comfort and apology because I think I’ve yet to find that place.
Instead I think my blood will boil before it curdles.
(Leave memories of how your skin made me feel)
Where do you turn to in the dark and who do you watch.
When your footsteps shatter the silence you left when you said you would never go.  
(But you left anyway)
How can you expect to trust a soul, if you don’t even trust your own.

And why have you gotten me stuck in the place between the two.

You are strings of pearls that cross thresholds between worlds
Little beads of ecstasy threaded through debris
You’re a smile in the morning when the sun is fresh and bright
You are scratches in the dark when the day has turned to night

You hover in the space between heaven and hell praying that if there’s a god he lets you in.
And your vain attempt at kissing darkness only gets you through this life with one foot in reality and the other foot in your grave.
Darkness doesn’t promise anything except blurred edges and escaped time and there comes a point when pity doesn’t look pretty, even on you.
So hold yourself to esteem higher than the lords, and pray that your ego will be the death of you.

You’re movements in the earth trembling like unsteady stars
You pull my limbs apart like planets orbiting a dying sun
(Tell yourself the truth before you get cut off)
There’s petrified stardust immortalized in your blood
You claim to own the nighttime like she’s a war that can be won
Counting down the minutes until darkness shows her son
A soldier versed in a song unsung

You’re angular asymmetry caught in the in between
Black holes and dying stars in a universal tragedy
I wanted you to banish but instead you banished me
And now I’m writing letters to shadows of what you used to be

You’re all bones and no talk.
All dislocated ribs and shackled thoughts.
Contain them contain them, don’t you dare let them escape.
Hold on to what makes you broken, I’ve heard broken thoughts carry less weight.
So guard your bones that home your soul.
Sharpen your ribs and polish your throne.
Count the minutes and the hours and the seconds as they go.
You can’t expect royalty when you’re six feet below.

You’re all skeletons and veins
(or something like that)
Just a pile of bones hanging on an empty frame
With walls that feel too close for comfort
(You romanticize the dark as she sings your name)
I want the moon to light up your bed
And your flesh as we wait for the dark
We’re counting empty minutes so we can feel our ribs as they sink
Finding empty beds of flowers and empty bottles and empty seats
Stones carved in cemeteries with graves emblazoned with no names
Skeletons and souls, we are hanging hearts on empty frames