you make
falling in
love seem
holy
so bless
me with
your
curse

.

Why
Do I
Fear these
Depths,

When heights
Only
Intrigue me?

.

In the damp morning streets of my mind
a smell of words so foul
phrases that bind
and forever hidden underneath a dark cowl

Walking neath a hollow sky
a living, breathing, stone-cold vaul
as a lovely darkness constantly spills over my mind's eye
but never reaching thy heart, this empty hall

Words luminous like stars
reflecting on the sea below my feet
my mirrored self gripping onto bars
this is where truth and make-believe meet

I ask the Great Ones to give me the wounds
I ask for those that I deserve
Waited to bleed for many moons
this body is eager and so is every nerve

I cannot live another day
living of the starlit night
hiding my sole purpose away
this fragile human shell, my endless fright

Is this my Anathema?
I feel endlessly accursed
This mind's life is nothing but a phantasma
and it seems nothing can collect what has once been dispersed

Am I not dead yet?
Is this not dying?
I was not hit but still I bled
Why have you taught me how to be death-defying?

Blinded by what is illuminated
I'm always drowing in the space between
a warm light that has faded
and a bright and terrifying fire burning so keen

So just finally set my flesh ablaze
break through this agony, a heart so tame
let this sea of blood erase
and overflow this frame

The truth
Can free your soul
Take back all the things
That your memories once stole

Unpack your demons
Let them disperse
Through thin air
Release of the curse

The truth
Can ignite a flame or two
Your worst nightmare
With a spectacular view

Forcing your hands
To carry the heat
Well maybe that's better
Than admitting defeat

Sometimes I lie a little
To make myself feel good
It puts a smile on my face
And that’s more than the truth could

Cleopatra and
Patroclus reflect upon
the same cursed mirror

We dug our own graves
with shiny silver teaspoon
stolen from the marble mansion,

Bloodstreams trickled at
the shrieks of the leaves
and scrutinizing glossy
pairs of almond.

We hammered our own caskets,
Tack tack tacked the night
with pebbles from the pavement
in the backyard and painted it
blue birds on the sides.

We played with the remains
of the past great literary lovers
and no one bid us warning
we would be ******.

The spoon, pebbles, and leaves
moved on its own will.

We cursed and got cursed and
yours lifted away in seconds but
mine lingered deep within.

If this is the punishment
for telling that I loved you,
I’m glad I didn’t mean it
that night when we said it.