I felt free and light
Like I was made out of air, or feathers
Then I was slapped back to reality
With a tube down my throat
Now there's this break in my eyes
A white flag, announcing my loss
I have given up

Can you see it, my deadly love?
Can you see what you made me into?
A living corpse, an off tune symphony
A torn page off of a book, lost and incoherent

I, as a cat
Have nine times to die*
I have given up three, and I would give up the rest
In a heartbeat, or a slit of a wrist
The sadness of the world, cries in my head
And the happiness that you once laid in me
Is now slipping through my fingers
I am made out of air

You broke me into a million little pieces
And stumped over each one of them
Over and over again
You can't feel anything
For I should have known
My heart is made out of paper
And yours is made out of stone

I lost count, of the times I cried for you
I lost count, of the times you killed me
My poems are my tragedy, and so is your love
I'm a poetess of death, or near death
The penalty of my half written dreams
Half written books
Half written poems
And our half written destiny

Won't you come, and pull the knife out my back
And bury it with my remains
Dust to dust
Loss to loss
And air to air.