We could never be that poster couple
              so we ripped it up...
Cardboard cut-out wannabes.

We were the arguing every
                          4 minutes kind of love,
Never knowing what we would be.

From the moment of our mornings,
           we each wondered were we
      hurricanes in teacups or soft breezes.

We were never going be soppy smiles
            more like smiles
                and words that threw our
true emotions out there.

I awoke one morning in
             youthful gazes
Seeing life was not of any creation
but of chaos.
                   And it was beautiful.

For I realized that what was before
           my eyes wasn't momentary
it was a moment already dying,
                    but we were catching up to it.

Her lips were
       razorblade kisses,
bleeding the lust from
every motion that leant me
                                       forward.
For the inevitable
           torture of our wounded love.

We were bound by the chains that
gripped within our small collection
of touching moments.
                    You would sculpture
my endless intrusion, forge me into
someone I wasn't before I feel below you.

Now I pray for you to free me,
          the ******* of our coupling.
Constricted to the many time you
cut the voice of our reasoning from me.

*"Love is a hell of our own creations,
         "And your's cuts me deep enough
                     to love you more with each laceration,

I **** time,
by strangling
every clock I see..

Its only ****** if you take  
the batteries out,
when time stops, death is real.

But if the beat just repeats,
then its just a paradox
of what could have
        and what will eventually be.

I asked a thief
           to steal my heart,
            but was rejected.

For the thief said
      it had been already stolen.

Misconstruing what I meant,
   I wanted it stolen back..
But the thief said, what was given
                             cant be taken back.

Looking into my eyes,
        pulling something from beneath.
Giving me theirs, on this night you
                                have stolen mine.

That which I wanted stolen,
                          given freely back.
The thief no longer a heart taker,
    now proving there the love of my life.

I watered her gardens
       but a flower never blossomed
       only dead seeds
wilt within this patch.

Her tears fell like rain,
        hoping that realising
her worries would cling
           to a moment never changing.

I watered her gardens
       but a flower never blossomed
       only dead seeds
wilt within this patch.

She wished me to tend to her
                  garden but in the
end I couldn't bring life to
                          with barren seeds.

I watered her gardens
       but a flower never blossomed
       only dead seeds
wilt within this patch.

For it wasn't her garden, for
seasons bled and past.
           But it was me, the Gardner
My seeds were never buried deep enough.