You came crying at my door,
And I sat with you on the steps,
You rested your head on my shoulder,
And I began the story,
Of the person who saved me,
With a “Remember when?”
And you smiled softly,And when I finished the story,
You looked at me,
Softly,
(A expression that didn’t often grace your face,)
And wiped your tears,
And said, “Remember who?”
I remembered you are gone
And that this is an empty, lonely song.

I have nothing to offer you,
I’m just a pyromaniac,
An empty girl,
Trying to find my way back,
After I burned my hands
On the matches I light in the bathroom,
Before I drop them in the sink,
Letting the water discourage the flames.
(Only the burns remain.)

You eat a strawberry,
Hoping to confuse the blood in your mouth,
But it won’t.

The bullet holes
Provide windows in your chest,
And I can see the trees through you.

Your wings are folded
Beneath your coat,
Broken and bent,
And feathers fall when you run.

And your blades draw blood,
My blood,
And you tell me to leave,
But I promised to stay,
Until you can’t taste any more of
The blood,
Or the
Strawberries