And here I lay
Listening to the same
God. ****. song..
Fighting back tears..
For the one person I wish
Was standing next to me tonight
Is most certainly locking lips
Holding on tightly
To someone else
Because they were ready.
They didn't have any shell
To cast off like I do.
They didn't need someone
To give them a hand
And help them up to their feet.
Not a question in my mind
You went to sleep tonight nuzzled
Deep in their chest
Peacefully asleep
Knowing you were loved.

And here I am
Wondering how long
Would it take
For a heart to break
From just enough broken heartstrings.
For I've lost count
As to how many
******* chords were struck
And they all sang
Such a mournful melody
Wishing they were no longer struck
With such promise.
Only to break..
Over... and over again..

Glowing with sadness
Bright with grief
I, was born a hero
I shouldn't leave this world a thief

I was broken and hurting
I didn't want to see you cry
I was filled to the brim with tumors
It was ensured that I would die

So when I see you blubbering
I wonder why you weep
The memories and stories made
Are there for you to keep

Our love it wasn't perfect
And now your heart lay on the floor
But the time in our infinity
Well, I couldn't have asked for more

So instead of staying silent
And laying down to die
Take your heart and leave
Please go, be free
So I may fly into the light

What a beautiful word after all.
Who would not love to be a candle
                        for some time,
just to have a dark room at his
or her entire disposition
in which to flick, in which to dance
with a windy darkness
so very much consumed
by the almost carnal desire
of possessing the light.

Let's pretend for a moment
we don't know its meaning.
Let's pretend it's just an echo
that has trespassed from the past,
cracked the arrow of time
to reach our ears as delivered
by a XIX century candle
that was just put out.

The flickering of lights should have
in fact a sound. In fact,
the dancing shadows on the walls
should scratch them make them
scream the horrors of their
silent nature, make the walls dance
and not only the cruel appearance
of the walls dancing, flickering,
as if concrete could play
to be wax for just one day.

I possibly can prove
that all major poets of this language
have used it
until the poor word died out,
until it was no more
than a leafless trunk,
mere linguistic trunk deprived
of the leaves of meaning.

But there's no resisting
the crucial titillating magic
of what gives us the chance
of referring to all which is so frail,
that could perish by the same gasp
that takes from us such frailty.

The sound of your voice
Could lull me to sleep
Not because it's boring
but because it's relaxing enough for me to go to sleep normally

When my leg used to shake
because you were too close
but there was no more space left to move
It was in excitement and nervousness

You would put your ridiculously warm hand on my knee
and it would feel warm for a little while
You wanted it to stop shaking
but you wouldn't force it

Your singing
that i've heard
is quiet
and rather croakish

It sounded terrible and wonderful
It was country music
I was listening to fall out boy
You were listening to country

Such different music preferences