Under the silvery moonlight she is nothing but cinder Remnants of when she was fire She could end this blight from up here the ground is so inviting at least more so then whats home, waiting She has nowhere to go back Every one she trusted, trusted a knife in her back and it all ended as she jumped
I can see through The way you put it In drab olive tones Like sketches of people Drawn in invisible ink Where the page is the only color And the lines are a haze of forgotten notions and history
Today lets make a line Perhaps only in pencil H8 with light strokes And erasable mistakes An outline of your heart On rosy-rolled papers Create soft perspectives until the day We draw in ink.
Could all be simple Easing my way into the darkness Letting loose my grip No longer clinging to the last straw Removing all the material Replacing it with light
Or dark... Maybe it is darkness
But how I wish it were light That the stories reign true So simple
Letting go of me Letting go of the idea of me
Decaying softly thru the seasons I'd get flowers more often Flowers that tears help grow
He was the dark pit at the bottom of a nightmare the coffee grounds of something that was once warm that is now only bitter and cold the stale cigarette **** at the bottom of a bottle of blood and turpentine a swollen pulp of flesh covering rotting bones the stinch and stink and decay of death without the comforts of the last kiss the broken heart hidden in the devils tears the sin beyond redemption beating in an angels wing a thread ripped out of time broken and frayed forgetten by dreams and love and hope drifting through nothing and nowhere lost between eternity and birth and sleep