I liked how you talked once upon a time.
But beauty and the beast is black and white.
I'm an all or nothing kind of guy.
Guess I'm not really what you like.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought we felt a similar thing.
Cigarettes in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now,
A body is all you're worth.
So it's over, I know you now.
A little piece of heaven, tasting like dirt.
So it's over, I know you now.
If there's a crowd, you'll say the words.

Found out why you sit a lot by yourself.
Two trains of thought and mine's running out.
Away from you, I hope you're burning,
I won't feel those flames by the morning.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought that we felt a similar thing.
Cigarette tips in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now.
Just a girl.
So it's over, I know you now.
A backroom museum piece.
So it's over, I know you now.
No pictures, please.
No pictures please.

Flames.
Flames result in something burning into ashes.
The stronger ones, that resist, are not saved from the effects either.
                                                                ­                             They blacken.

And when a fire and passion as strong as ours burns out, one of us is going to be reduced to ashes and the other one is going to carry the weight of the darkest heart around.

I strive to keep us ablaze because somewhere I know that the pain of being reduced to nothingness is much lesser than carrying around a broken piece of what once was.

                                                           ­                     Burnt from all sides.

And I know that I'm the one who's going to resist.
                                                         ­                                         Oh, I fear.

Ferocity has burnt away,
all what remains are embers
fading and diffusing 
wth sorrow cascading 
down my cheek.

You met my concern with ignorance
and walked away in silence,
leaving me to lament over the coming days 
as I plunge into the dark abyss
unexplained.

Your leave,
****** the warmth
leaving me to gaze upon the horizons of loneliness
and the stars that now grow cold.

The night bleeds into morning, 
The sun dissolves the moon.
As I ache at the page in front of me
and at the vulnerability I showed you.

Every morning,
it takes a monumental effort to peel off myself from the bed
fighting gravity to sit up
as I become the ghost 
of different thoughts that run through me.

Hope is still ruffling its feather
and the bond remains stagnant, 
But I am too tired to stay,
too broken to cry.

So I pinch my fingers 
on something beautiful within
a star dripping with black infinity;
a hope to care for myself
to healing and to move on.

This fakeness is driving me mad.
This hypocrisy is faithless, destructive and deceptive.
Tear all these layers of fake, rip it apart and cast it away.
The convincing face of a phony, deceptive man,
tricking many to follow the wrong path, to the wrong land.

What's fake will fade away.
What can be shaken would all die and be burnt, cast to the side.
I hope they do.
You shouldn't be a fake.
Or your destiny would be written down, carved into stone, as real and true as ever.
Be real.
That's the best. Forever.