I only know that
during lingering kisses
my darkness lifts for a moment
as your soul touches mine.

She is the ghost in his thoughts,
A nightmare so blissful it is mistaken,
For a sentiment of happiness.

She is the ghost in his thoughts,
For in her wake, the consequence lie,
In an unmade bed of thieves,
Slaughterer to his fragmented happiness.

She is the ghost in his thoughts,
Standing on the brink of such spiralling sorrow.
He sees her in the street,
He looks for her in all the people he meets.
-

For he is made of demons and of angels, they dance in his veins. Menacingly pattering to the sound of her tired voice.

I see you.
I see you for what you are.
I see the hate and the self betrayal.
I see the lies of a life that was never to be yours.
I see a devil inside you, dancing beneath the pale moonlight.

I love you.
I love you even though its wrong.
I love you through the pain and deceit.
I love you with every bone within this decaying body.
I love you, even though I know you killed me with a smile on your lips.

I lie here.
I lie here in my hole.
I lie here in my hole with no name at all.
I lie here because you put me here in my bed of dirt.
I lie here with the hands of a devil around my throat.

I see you; don't you see me?

I love you; will you love me?

I lie here; wont you come into my bed and rest your head?

On crowded streets they meet
stealing warmth and kisses
as the hubbub melts away
leaving only them
alone in their misdeeds
together in their longing
for a different ending that cannot be.

you are a tree
trees are so utterly unique and shaken by the wind
yet strong and rooted

trees do rot
but before that comes
millions of seasons

winter, where you are dying and everything seems to fall apart,
and your tears shed like leaves fall
spring, where delicate flowers peek out of unexpected places
and your laugh blooms like tulips
summer, where things are mediocre and there comes a bit of rain
and your heart feels moderate, like the temperatures
and autumn, where leaves turn gorgeous colors and so do you

it seems you've been through winter
and maybe you're still there
I hope you get your spring and autumn
remember there's summer in between

remember to stay rooted,
beautiful things are yet to come.

They say 'time heals all' and it has faded the memory of you, although not convinced it would, and unsure if this was even true

I sit here and briefly ponder, since you have become just a face, the image of someone I once knew from a hazy kind of place

It's like a memory of a film that I felt such a part of, knowing each and every word, immersed in feelings of love

So old, it has now become and the image quite distorted, your face, completely out of focus, all clarity exhausted

The film has run its course, the audience left long ago, this was the very last viewing, of this worn out meaningless show

Is it so wrong
that you are my waking breath?
the unseen force that weighs my eyelids into blissful dreams?
Is it so wrong that your very touch stirs my soul?
How can it be so?