Cease thriving on these feelings,
Oh heart of mine.
Or at least bestow upon me a sign,
Where the stars shall align,
And lend reason to this rythem and rhyme,
Of things that only seem to waste my precious time.

Is love the only epiphany of your life,
Oh heart of mine?
Only moments ago we ran on grief and strife.
Must your coal black complexion distort to red at the thought of being a wife?
Does he even love you back? Or will more sorrow simply arise?

Heed the words I speak to you,
Oh heart of mine.
Do not turn your pigmintation to that pitiful crimson hue.
You act as though you're willing to be broken in two.
Tell these feelings adieu.
Do not let them ensue,
Lest you want to peg me with anguish through and through.
This is what I beg of you.

I don't want to go back,
I don't want to turn around,
go on picking up every tear I left on the road,
collect on every good moment
that we shared,
gather together the nights we laid broken
those nights that we at least had each other,
search for those still remembered suns
that shone upon us,
those a thousand marble furnaces that
woke up with the opening of your eyelids;
each morning.

I don't want to recollect,
I don't want to remember,
I don't want to reminisce on where love took us.

The lovely seas we sailed on,
the magic shells we spotted on the beach,
the gardens you likened me to,
when you said I was far more prettier,
than those well arrayed flowers.

We are here,
In the now,
You found me in shackles and you brought me free,
you held me in your arms,
you wrapped me,
you put your lips on mine,
moons later,
and I was complete.
And you gave me this.

Here and now.

I don't wanna go back,
I don't want to have any regrets,
I don't want to ask questions
of where I stumbled
and forgot to pick us up both nicely,

I want to stay here,
I want to stay here and be yours.

Every second yesterday was beautiful,
today is indeed beautiful,
but
Tomorrow is the only place I want to go,
the only place I want to go
with you.

In today's society
You need one of three things
For success

Money
              A high IQ
                                  American Beauty

Those who have all three -

Are GODS.






...
(The artists are left to die)

i enjoy my solitude
but i wouldn't mind
if you jumped into it with me, too

The strawberry milk boy. The lights are on but nobody is home kind of boy. The lost boy. There's something about his hands and how ever since that first spark you haven't stopped feeling the burning sensation on your thighs. Something about how every time you're rocking your body over his you want to whisper about loving him but never quite having the gumption. Something about knowing that it never lasts. Something about the broken glass on the kitchen floor and the way you always walk through it without shoes on. Something about knowing you'll get hurt and knowing it shouldn't be like this. Something about needing more. Something about always being the one to say sorry anyway. Something about the end.