The wettest of love written out of my black
fountain pen. I’ve got hearts to spend,
customs to save, and not a lot of people to blame.

Oh what a shame, in this love’s long game,
starting off as friends, good remarks,
All into permanent scars; how haven’t we
come as far?

Oh I wonder how to slow down, to keep on
searching for something not yet around.

Love!

Oh where do I search, with the possible heartbreaks
that seem to lurk? Cut and burnt, soon after I had
my first.

Love letters into ashes, ashes into the dust,
scratched out names, nails turning into rust.

Pinned down by the wrists; to hold onto pain,
crosses are instead exes. Restless, into resting
soundly in my death.

In over my head, thoughts are covering
my shame. I’m waiting patiently after all,
to fall in love.

Once again.