You are a maybe that made me say
"what if"
And passed by like a hurricane
&
I thought I was trouble,

But I hold my immorality tight
And they call it "honesty"
And I lose sleep because;

They say I have a beautiful soul
(I don't believe in)
Gorgeous eyes,

They say I'm wonderful
I hate that.

Would they love me if they knew my secrets?

Would you kiss me if you knew I'd been kissing gravestones?
Knocking on their front doors,
Begging for superstitions?

I live in a hurricane.
Something tumultuous.
I wonder if the trees also
die habitually,
seasonally.