No one told me,
Death, was a she
She stopped by my house,
We had tea
She spread her black wings
In my sitting room,
She was beautiful
But smelled of doom,
I called her a *****,
She said to me,
"Sorry, my dear,
I'm necessity."

I fell for a girl with a glass heart
And watched as she  
Slowly fell apart
Picking up the pieces
And putting her back together
Meant knowing that she
Wouldn't do the same
No matter how much I helped her
Despite the cuts she left
On my hands
I wouldn't have wished
For he to be made of gold
Because instead of being
A caring canvas
I would have been the coal
Sacrificed in order
To make her glow

And as we sit across the table
From each other
I realize that instead of this
Exam review
I’d much rather study you

I was never a rose,
But green
Not a chrysanthemum,
Nor an orchid
Something cut,
Walked upon
And yet,
You were the dew
And kissed me,
With a thousand moist kisses
Everynight,
Making me sparkle
In the sunrise

I used to eye her more than books.

She had good looks
and for me
in the library
she killed the dullness of patience
the stifled air of silence
with her lips' hidden smile
that was quite a diversion
from pouring over yellowed pages
all the while.

In the garden I sought my chance
but she resisted any advance
telling me it's not her
I needed to be in my mind
but a job I must find
for couldn't be raised a family
merely loving in the library.

I think she gave me love
when I needed a job
but by the time I earned the bread
she was already married.

Once I thought of her as Miss Giving
but now as I look back
I have serious misgiving.

Time to drink
the syrup of love
drowned in her eyes..