Lover, understand
That my tongue and my eyes rarely speak the same language
But when they do, the world burns
Sometimes in honesty, sometimes in ferocity
Aren't they the same thing?

Tell me to leave my world behind and run with you
And I will drop my razor blade
And you won't understand
And just like that, the dreams
Dry
Up.

(Telling you my secrets is beginning to feel more claustrophobic than it used to.)