Does it ever bother you that pictures can be lies,
how a smile can be faked and nobody will ever realize.
The photos of you that I hang on my walls are starting to feel distant,
I hear a pain in your voice, as if you could break in an instant.

And it's a whole lot easier to burn a picture than it is to burn a memory,
And I was kinda hoping that we would never reach this treachery,
And you're falling under quickly and I can't do a ******* thing,
And I'm writing songs to cope but I don't have the guts to sing.

I think you're better off away from me.
I think you're better off alone.

Here I stand,
with match in hand.
Your words drip over me like gasoline.
I promise you I will be clean.
I strike the match to cleanse my soul.
You watch me burn,
your heart is cold.

I felt the emptiness
of the universe in my soul.
It bursted into living flames,
even my skin burned.

I could barely breathe,
demons had colonized my soul.

I had been living with this
exhausting feeling
for so long, my eyes
had them painted
as to show their most beloved treasure.

They told me,
“do not dare to act like you do not deserve this”.

Who are these demons
wearing my skin?
I might explode into meteorites,
to extinguish what surrounds me, what I loved.

Sometimes the truth
is like holding
a smoldering flame
in your cupped hands

where if you do not
throw the flame
then it will burn
you alive.

Calling burns.
Sunset leaks from my lips at the touch of your name.
Orange sky fills my throat and belly and soft wisps of clouds puff beside my Cupid's bow.
You are the glow brimming along the edges of a dark world.
The precipice of peace and fire, tickling the jagged upcroppings on the horizon.
Melted sunshine, you overflow.
Liquid wax and flowers.
Drips.
Passes between our lips.
You are treacherously beautiful
My tragic aubade.