There's a sorrow for every season,
When you're a target for love's treason.
The bittersweet and twist that's raw,
There is no love without the fall.
Love is gory; tears at the heart,
Never pauses at the start.
You may vow to skip the pain.
One day, you'd die to love again.

In the springtime, love is young.
In the summer, burns in the sun.
In the autumn, hearts may ache.
In the winter, hearts will break.
Once a hopeful, spry young man
Has been haggard by love's hand,
He may vow to skip the pain.
One day, he'd die to love again.

coughing up something.
heart, soul, lungs,
i don’t know.
nails bitten down too far.
it hurts to touch you,
it hurts to touch me.
every shape,
every curve,
every inch
feels wrong.
my own skin is a prison
for the ethereal being
i long to be.
i am stuck,
hating myself,
loving you.

my heart is beating out of my chest.
i am lonely but in love.
i have no hands to hold nor lips to kiss
and yet i rejoice in an empty bed.
i long for him, an ocean away,
and yet too far from my thoughts.
two years and a decade too late.
i crave the solitude of an irish cottage,
thought i cannot help myself in wondering
if i’d be happier with him there.