I can touch your skin without crying
and wanting to tear away my own
That hasn't happened in too many years
or maybe not enough
I don't know if it's early or late
but you don't care
so nothing has to change
We can watch American Horror Story
even though we are living one
And I can hold onto you with teeth and nails
because this darkness is vicious and wants you gone
I can watch your back shift as you pull off that burnout
Your demons slide along your bones under pale skin
And then you toss the shirt over your head
and they slip back into your grooves
Eyelashes are smearing tears in the cup of your shoulder
under the careful watch of your black eyes
Our hearts are black too
but not in the way everyone thinks
But it doesn't matter, sweetheart
You wouldn't care if I had a red heart or a blue one
Because it wouldn't make a difference, baby