My closet is glass,
Therefore holds no skeletons within
But the glass is tinted
One must smash the glass in order to discover what is within.

I never expected that person to be me.
I just wanted to figure out who I was on the inside,
I wasn’t aware it was going to cause everlasting damage to my closet,
To my soul

A single message flourished away,
a smooth brush across cold paned screen,
for, there we met on the sixth of May.

So many things are ephemeral;
dark chocolate beneath the sun, bubbling into sugary pools;.
Grainy white cubes, dissolving into porcelain cup.
Descending petals from bearded, autumn branch.
Paper in a book, lines on a page;
a melodious song, or grand theatric play.
But this was to last forever
for, there we met on the sixth of May.

Surrounded by domains of mellow duvets,
he’s a crepuscular ray through sombre clouds, and rainbow rains.
Love beats steady, slow and safe;
warming heart and thumping vein.
Benevolent burning, a fervent haze;
pawing at molten hills of silky skin.
Creamy haired head moulds into
grooved shoulder and beating chest;
made whole, a set pair.

Timeless, a tender dimension;
a rose bubble, a hallowed, undying day,
for, there we met on the sixth of May.

x.

i i i, i'm the charm in your trench
you're the archaic obsession i sleep with
you rest deep in my grey matter
i rest deep in your camera phone gallery

a thought and a picture of the past
you wish and try, but you can't forget me
disturbed by the trauma i bring you
while you jadedly lie with whatever girl looks your way

i i i, i know i don't stand a chance
you don't see my face when you look at me
my wonders cease when i look in the mirror
i still love you

you don't want me to go
but as long as you don't forget me
i'll exist dead or alive
as the slumbering reason you keep on
the pretty, prattling boy in your silver locket