Your words pierce my skin
Like a knife cutting steak
They go back and forth in my mind
Until they sever a piece
Of my heart off
Because that's what your words are meant to be
A weapon you use
Against me

We are all books
Just waiting to be read
Or a thought,
Deep inside
Just waiting to be said
We are judged from the outside
Our covers you see,
Are the only part you decide read

But next time you decide to look at me,
Open me up because
I'm a mystery

Like a butterfly going back to its cocoon
shedding its intricate wings
and wrapping itself in darkness
waiting for the change to be complete
back to the familiar nothingness
that has become so familiar
it feels like home

You gorgeous creatures
delicate powder brushed faces
behind those large dark sunglasses
casually smoking
with your legs crossed
I'd burn my icarus wings
to catch the scent
of your perfume

I've seen the kind of violence
that makes you ill
for the rest
of your
life.
grotesque bombastic dramas
and tragic gore soaked tears
and when it's still
and quiet
it comes roaring back to you