One wing dipped in gold.
One wing dipped in blood.
The pale cheeks house a forked tongue.

But this house is so cold,
and the walls are starting to speak.
Cracks in the floor are staring at me.
Shouldering the world, I'm growing so weak.

Though..

There's mud in my veins
and salt on my tongue.
There's songs in my lungs
that have yet to be sung.
Weaker knees have carried worse.
Lesser minds bare the same curse.
But.
They haven't the privilege of watching you dance.
Their wide eyes blind, but mine still in a trance.
I haven't forgotten the amber and honey swirl.
You're still my favorite girl.

Heavy glow; round 2 of this game.
Shameless filters seep through the frame.
Remember the time we lay on your floor?
I woke up the next morning so drowsy and sore.
Driving home, cramped in a weary state.
Gaping holes in my soul, wailing, kept me awake.
Hit or miss, it's been 2 months,
Here I am again, alone, jumping every ****.

Remember welted eyes at 2 am in the car?
Remember sitting in the booth of your favorite bar?
Remember silence at the park bench?
Remember defending him in your defense?

Gaps in the conversation and moments too.
If only the songs I listened to could scream as loud as I could to you.
Bottles were nothing but a conversation piece.
And I ache there, stifled between two sheets.
Longing to hold all of you,
For you were the glue,
That kept everything from ripping in two.

Blatant mistakes of our past,
Keep what's to be had masked.
You know its true.
Your jaded eyes kept my sky a sharper shade of blue.

I remember all the times I thought I was wrong.
I remember "*******." after I showed you that song.
I remember utter distress.
I remember removing shrapnel words from my chest after you left.  

I don't know how many times I buried myself in the dirt.
Only to be picked up by the girl in the pizza pocket shirt.
I can't recall how many times she's heard me drone.
Only to be written off with a sigh and a moan.

And quite frankly
I don't need God
Two wires to my ears, and a glass of whisky
Is plenty enough to guide me through the fog.

Yet.. Sometimes..
Sir Jameson won't drown out..
The tingle of lavender that still tickles my nose
Or the scent of the sheets, or the rain on the streets.

And sometimes..
Mr. Daniels won't blind me from..
The traps
It no longer soothe..
How her lips refused to move.

I've grown.
But hate these words.
I hate my own.

A word with your smile,
Is all this heart wants right now.
Distance is poison.