It's the quiet one's you hear.
The subconscious.
The shadows.
The darkness.
It speaks to me louder than the Sun ever did.
I live in those shadows for in those shadows I do not see, I do not judge, I can only feel.
One cannot hate what they cannot see.
Eyes rolling back, gazing into the oblivion,
Your moon dust frolics along the walls of my head.

If I die in this moment
back arched and brazen
your cursed name like nightshade
upon my ruby lips
will my sin be forgiven?

If I'm still here tomorrow
alive in loves echo
all things returned to rightful owners
familial harmony restored
will I be forgotten?

The cuckold sits with empty pride
at all that's on display
he does not yearn for awful truth
'bout where she is today.
he dreams of travels far and wide
and promises the earth
he knows not that his dreams are lies
a source of lovers mirth
when she returns as day goes dim
he'll try to light a spark
he does not see that it's not he
who owns her weary heart.