How about her?
Is she the one or do we differ in that she will die alone?
It may be she will find a man
She may marry him and bare six kids but when she dies she leaves them all behind
I plan to leave with my arms firm around what is mine.

She mightn't seem the kind
But we never know until we try
So let's finish up the wine and read her some poetic lines.
And just for her I'd write something ****.
Tales of how we'd toss and tumble
Drunkenly around corset laces and belt buckles fumble.
Tell her as I wipe the hair from her eyes,
lean in real close and whisper of a passion to envelope a night.
Watch her lips tremble and muscles quell at the thought of just me and her and sweat and love.

Soon I find that her eyes shine too bright and full of her ignorant life to be what I'm looking for tonight.
The lust we share is just a body talking
But I won't deny it it's thrills,
after all it's barely mines.
I'll just use it to say 'St. Adam was here',
Like the marks on my back say that you were there.

If she would arise to watch me leave I can honestly say she was worth my time.
I could have been out searching for love and all the finest crap,
But sonnets are written for more than one great theme
and I'll find mine in debauchery and a most sensual kind of treachery.

Love for me will never be easy to find
For I have created a foul depiction of Aphrodite.
Should I propose she wouldn't hesitate to find her prettiest ****** robes.
We will race through forty floors laughing and crying till the summit
Where she will whisper, 'I love you'.
We will walk.
Each step another vow,
Closer and closer,
Hand in hand,
Eye to eye
And lips to lips.
She is everything I desire.
She is a bride to hug as I watched skyscrapers rise
And they watch me fall.

Love and immortality run parallel for me.
So I'll stick to wine and pretty girls
Who under my words take the place of ******
And I'll never die.
For they'll applaud me for years.

I can remember when I left you,
No.
When I saved you,
No.
When I condemned you.
When you offered me your heart and your lust and I took them into my own and cursed myself with the role of a lover.
I accepted the gift but at least I felt conflicted.
Enough so to soon see that giving you joy meant denying what I am.

I am nothing but contradictions.
A hypocrite with a most debauched nature.
While I wished for nothing more than the red of your petals,
So too did I wish to lay with the weeds.
Much closer to my own kind,
like me they choke the beauty from flowers.
Only with a little less love in their grasp.
So I shifted from you and in poetic spirals of ink I set you free.
At least that's how I saw it.

But now I realise just how much damage a week with me is worth.
Your eyes look dimmer.
A layer of spite and tears stop me seeing any further than that.
Your petals didn't fall but they certainly faded.
What was red became black,
A hell I never wished for you,
And I can only pray that your shade is much more superficial than mines.
I hope it will wash clean and reveal a purer white than a spotless bride.
But that's just a dream.

Hearts are easy to see when they're worn on ones sleeve,
And I've changed hers for the worse.
A fate I had not foreseen and now she can't even see me.
Everything I once admired has drifted from her face.
But it's been replaced by perfection of a different sort.
Had this been clear to me I could have hid who I was.
It would have been worth it.
Just to leave her as she was.

If I confront her will she pour this new life into me and be as she should be?
Or will I leave her in the same void of pain and passion I found myself in?
I swore to watch over those left behind on the path to bliss,
But not those I dragged back myself.
If only I could send her back on the path.

Another letter perhaps.

Dear Rose.
I love you.
I'm so, so sorry...

Rose.
Do you remember the tale?
You think you know how it goes
But what you knew and what I thought never coincided.
We've ran our course and deception should end
So let me tell you how we really began.


Standing silent across the bar I spy a rose.
But by this dark and these glazed eyes all I can tell is that the petals are more red than black.
As pretty as she is,
I am more beguiled by thorns than a rosy red leaf.
Thorns that I will only find if I can caress her neck for a while and trace my fingers down her spine, Slicing my palms and pretending that our hearts are of the same shade.

If I pressed this thorny soul and it's black heart to your window would sanctuary be offered with open arms and pitying eyes?
Is there safety in those walls that I shan't be part of?
I can't miss what I've never had
And I will never have her.

But will she know the difference?
Do I look like the rest?
If I sing the song and dance the dance could I be ignorant and happy like them?

I've seen their kind a million times
I've seen the flowers dance and entwine their stems to grow together and die with each other.
Roots can be poison.
Especially mine.


You see I love me more than you ever could because you never met me.
Bloodshot eyes and a ***** filled disguise are all you've ever known
I am not what you thought me to be.
I'm a rose darker than the lies.
Now I've wiped away the ****** disguise to reveal to you a simple ruse to no end.

This letter meant goodbye.
Goodbye Rose.

I have not injected myself, felt the pulse
of illegal things under the bonnet of my skin
or swallowed a pill and let the room swirl
in colours from the mid-sixties.

I have not guzzled ugly orange drinks
until my liver aches to talk
and I erupt pints and shots
against ***-coated cubicle walls.

I have not had the awkward first
with one of my teeth knocking on hers
or a line of saliva in my stubble
that I perhaps should have trimmed.

Instead I drink tea with two sugars
and whizz through each channel
rather than absorbing stories for class
as best I can like a square of kitchen roll.

Instead I see streams of people from 20-whatever
take pictures with berries and apples
to remind themselves who they are
and remind me they still breathe.

And instead I write what I don't know
for if not every word burns black then dies
and so I continue to fight the other me
who will not turn, walk back the way I just came.

The gutter is lined with a thousand neon lights,
flickering in the morning's rising sun
We tied rockets to our wrists
and repeatedly committed a fantastic cosmic suicide
Our legs were bound by masked oppressors on government soil
and we were stoic the whole time and still embraced
Together we watched Pierrot le Fou
but I could only adore her hands in the movie theater dim-light
She always looked as if she'd been crying,
maroon nose sniveled and her pursed lips did glow
And we stood catatonic in low slung dance halls
Satiated.

have i found you?
have i finally found love?
after a long time of nothingness
is this it?

a person
who actually sees the true me?
a person who gives me butterflies,
when I talk to them
someone I can take to the Netherlands with me?
Or just talk about the most random things
and it would still be okay

Have I found thee?
Or am I hallucinating?
I feel like I found you
A magnificent person
An indescribable human being
With great intelligence
Who enjoys being themselves
And doesn't mind talking to a lame kid
I think you are it
I feel like I found someone
To obsess over