howling, and it's all black outside, except, of course, the street lights,

a box to be untouched, because you can't hear or see what's in here,

I'll give everything to make you leave with nothing,

I am secondary to the love of my life,

we'll watch eclipses under romantic ellipses,

Welled up tears won't pour, and ambient noise won't be the score,

It'll be a silent painting, hung by ones that scream and

hung will it be in the finality of satisfied artistry

Bet and lose it all