Your hands are ink Staining all that you touch with your singular finger print We all get lost. I get lost, In it's ridges and complexities Perpetually held in wondrous confusion You are black coffee Pumping into all of my veins, Alive Like a rush of oxygen to my blood You are my siren Luring me to the edge I see the parts of me you tore apart glistening just below, But I can't resist All of your music Makes my memories of pain Nothing more than a light breeze Barely rustling strands of hair You are a white sun I can't help but stare at Even as I go blind While I am a candle Dull and lifeless In the presence of your intensity You are an unruly sea Your magnitude uneffected By my timid presence I love you for all the reasons you hurt me.
How to explain what it feels like, when your soul is crumbling within, to watch your possible futures meet eachother during the same night, and know that in order to survive, you must leave one behind.
When you grow used to my body will you crave another? Will your eyes no longer find awe if I slowly undress in the curve of my waist, and will your caress of my smooth skin no longer be an instinct but instead perfunctory Will the endless nights of passion be replaced with snores as your mind and your body bores of what is always there Or will our love run deep, enough to keep The interest, the care With new layers of desire unfolding Mutual understanding The moulding of a connection and a strength that runs in us, and round us and through us so that no matter what comes our way no other could evoke a need to stray.
Strong hands pulling you away from everything you know A silent scream that no one can hear One hand on your mouth One hand moving down
Your world ripped apart before your eyes Everything you once knew: gone Denial, shame Oh what a lovely game
Hello where'd my childhood go It's been snatched before my eyes Everyone's crying But no one sees me
You can't print flyers asking for it back It isn't something broadcasted on the news Something been taken from you, something you should never lose so soon Your world soon turns inside out
You're not a kid anymore Your mother and father no longer matter You've gotten older too fast Your heart has gone cold
-But what do you expect when your kidnapper steals your home.
For my embalming, Julia, do but this; Give thou my lips but their supremest kiss, Or else transfuse thy breath into the chest Where my small relics must for ever rest; That breath the balm, the myrrh, the nard shall be, To give an incorruption unto me.