Riding the train
Her head on my shoulder
Off to the city
A lovely springtime date

I can't help but feel
That life gets no better
Than the silent intimacy
We found that day

It's time, to say goodbye,
It's time to prepare my will.
It's time to buy my plot.
It's time to move on.
Nothing here will care or will notice.
I quietly leave, with no regret.

i don't think it's fair
to hide away
by the way
it was the driest parts of you
that made the spell of aging
fade
like freckles in the winter
bloomed only to evade
like wax heavy and damp
take another pill
to ease those cramps
or maybe just light your own candle next time
because i guess we're both a little damaged
or have seen too many moons
either way
there will always be unmarked tombs
and cigarettes to cloud the air
and graze fingers as a reminder
you're only seventeen
too young not to care
you grew with such ease
orange trees
sprawling roots remain to prove
gods talk as loud as monsters do
but heaven will always have gates
to keep out lovers naive to fate
and pyramids tell the geometrical truth
Wes
the blood on the floor
would be better hidden beneath a bruise
because theres no time like the present
is time a present
or a curse
is the water clearer or worse
on your side of the bridge
and how long will it take to cross?
i don't want wet feet for christmas
forever is a greedy business
when sincerity lacks
scars sliver like snakes
my lips beg this cycle to break
pull sleeves down
to avoid demons that drop
from sky to ground
to dust beneath the Tennessee sun
just in time for draught thats begun
breaking southern girls who are fragile
enough to turn from glass to stone
so stop complaining and open your eyes
its april again
even the birds stopped crying
your tears will turn to mud
scrape them from you
knifes aren't only good for killing
and when i opened my mouth to scream
you silenced my cries
my words never said as much as my eyes
opened wide as i utter in sorrow
if you died today
i'd die tomorrow.