We spend our days
laughing,
crying,
screaming,
hurting,
smiling,
working,
fighting,
loving,
and one day,
maybe in a matter of moments,
we will simply cease to be.

We are all going to die.

So ask yourself,
*'what have I done?'

How I would love to crack open your skull,
to pull back the layers of impenetrable stone.
To strip and peel away each level of calcium,
until I reach that intoxicating, tangled mass.
To trace along every crevice and every groove
and memorize the landscape that devises you.
Once you are sewn up and put back together,
I would rest my weary head against your chest,
and be reaffirmed by the resonating silence.

Honey eyes are spent,
such beauty in their unrest.
Close them now, and sleep.

I have seen you in
your most vulnerable state
and it might **** me.

I will stay awake
for eternity to watch
you drift in your dreams.

A momentary
release, freedom from this cruel,
unrelenting world.

I find happiness
in your unmoving eyes, the
stillness of your hands.

God himself could not
shut these lover's eyes, for this
is my own release.

I ache to hide from you,
to reel you in, and to draw you
further in than ever before.

I am creating another
dimension of myself,
just to keep you intrigued.

There is me, the dweller,
who hangs on your every breath,
and thirsts for the beat of your heart.

And now there is me, the withdrawn,
who forces you to reach in, unknowingly,
and pull from my depths what you wish.

I will keep a light for you,
ablaze on the windowsill.
It is there to guide you,
when you feel the need
to venture back home.

But I will not hover.
No, I will not watch it.
I will maintain it always,
but I will no longer be
the one to nurture it.

I am a canvas,
painted over so much that
I seem to be blank.

But if you peel back
the improper strokes, you might
delight in your finds.

This feeling is fresh,
and my heart is in the air.
It is up for grabs.

I must warn you though,
I am broken and beaten,
and I'm not all there.

But I will hold you,
and if your arms find me, then
I will not let go.