I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

All profits disappear: the gain
Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum;
And now grim digits of old pain
Return to litter up our home.

We hunt the cause of ruin, add,
Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn;
For all our scratching on the pad,
We cannot trace the error down.

What we are seeking is a fare
One way, a chance to be secure:
The lack that keeps us what we are,
The penny that usurps the poor.

Pretension, oh beloved actor, why do you do?

Conceal, do not reveal, the twisted grimace upon your face

While you smile the smile like a mime, benevolent, kindly, my dear angel

Upon the stage, where the spotlight makes you glow, makes you look pure

You begin to believe that you have a pure heart, and that you can’t do any evil

Even when the curtain closes, and the lights fade out, and you step offstage

You forget that your rosy makeup still remains

When you wipe off the layers caked upon your face

Do you know when to stop, do you know when you’ve reached the real you?

You pretend you don’t care when you actually do, for fear, perhaps?

Or you pretend you actually do care, when you really couldn’t be bothered – why that?

Pretend, deny the real you, ‘tis but the only way to survive, is it not

just a month,
that's all it's been?
all that time,
i've spent with him.
at least six months;
a year at most.
cause in one month,
we've grown so close.
nine fourteen,
means more to me,
now that this is "we"