You don't know how much I want to be honest right now,
To show you my hands covered in ink and charcoal,
Take you to the untamable waves where I bargain with life,
And sweetly tell you the tales of my intangible ghouls.

I can imagine you'd be appalled, your features cringing,
But maybe I don't dream of fearless knights,
Maybe I only want you to be the youngest of flames,
To reflect all my unfinished and unedited lines.

You don't know much I want to be honest right now,
To give you the sails of my titanic drawn on a paper,
I'd wear my dullest of my pearls with their rusty chains,
I just need to borrow your third eye, I don't need a saviour.*

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