Tell me sweet mother
whats going on
Theres knives in my bed
and ******* in your head
there must be something wrong
For those balloons you bought me
Theyre going dead
Just like the memories and hopes you gave me
The house is up in smoke-just like your lungs
All i smell is death and  ******* dung
tell me sweet mother
what is so wrong
with this facade of a childhood song

Do you remember when the light in our eyes was brighter than the light of the stars,
when we used to tell each other reasons that we didn’t believe in god?
Tonight the clouds closed their eyes, clenched their fists, and swallowed the stars.
The older I get the less the moon stays to kiss me goodnight.
Tonight I’m praying to a rhetorical question.
I used to tell you that the silence was one of the reasons I didn’t believe.
Being friends with you has taught me that the silence is the response.
I’ve learned that my prayers are selfish.

The past few months i’ve peeled you off of me like a layer of dead skin.
I left my fragile exoskeleton on the shelf next to the questions you never asked me and the ***** you never gave.
I know all the reasons you hate me.
They’re the same reasons I hate myself;
I don’t know if that makes it hurt more or less,
but I would rather rot alone
than be pluto caught in your orbit.

My jealousy is oozing out in purple ink and sloppy cursive
because my stained lungs have finally given out.
I stopped shouting at you when I realized that
no one has ever fully heard something that weren’t ready to hear.
You only ever needed one reason to believe that the sky was empty,
Because god looked back at you in every mirror you passed.
Tonight I’m praying to a perverted question
just to prove you wrong.

Sincerely,
–if you need me i’m right where you left me

your lips and your eyes
the warmth of your hug

your memories
everything about you,
about us.
they haunt me
every two in the morning,
the night after spring.

I feel nostalgic
Every single day
Those memories we've created
Can we repeat it?

I feel wistful
Every single minute
Reminiscing our past
Has been a hobby of mine lately

I feel homesick
Every second I'm away from you
Because to me you are home
And in your arms is where I belong

An inflating reverie,
An nostalgic memory,
A far reaching boulevard,
lingering to debacle from
my stumbling and unsteady feet.

The days are long,
But the nights could be longer.
The moon hasn't cast a single fortune smile on me,
But it is nothing there but for the grace of the sun, that I take a trip back to the
             Memory lane.

I hope you miss me as much as I do
I hope you don't go to bed with quivering hands or a distraction to keep your bed warm, or that the only onomatopoeia that remains in your house are empty bottles of alcohol clashing against each other harder than you clash your wrist over the scattering pieces of mirror that still remains on your bathroom wall.
The one you out-layed with your bare knuckles because you're tired of watching your soul bleeding in prepetuum at night.

I know the colour of crimson still remains throughout the dimness, and that the sun never sees you bleeding.
Your fragileness wilts quicker at night time than it does at daytime, and I know the moon laughs at your woe and misery.
It's been months, but I still feel obstacles stuck between my teeth and a wire wrapped around my tongue.
I feel my oralability whisking up into the lusterless sky, and the moon exchanges a hint of death and accomplishment.
Droplets of warm venom streams smoothly down my cheeks, because I remember how you haven't been crying warm tears on my shoulder in a very long time,
And it is no wonder I shiver myself to sleep every night I close my eyes.

See, we're from two completely different scenario's,
You and I.
You engage your suffery into more pain than you're likely to feel, and I allow myself to remember.
The warm, summer nights filled with love and stars.
The nights where I got hom with the light to the porch still glowing brighter than your flaunty appearance I'd acquaint myself with once I step over the treshold
When watching your yellow sundress fluttering in the open wind wasn't as bad as whirling droplets of blood spattering against my mirror reminding me of how you're bleeding from the
Outside,
And I'm bleeding from the
Inside
When we were happy,
        do you remember?

life could be better or worst but will never be as painful as it is now (without you)!!!

The blue of your eyes
Not deeper than the blues I write about,
Yet much more mesmerizing
They could give hope
To a corpse

And when you are you
I could finally be me
No facade, no impostors,
Just one love
Transcending
Through both of us

The blue of your eyes
In them I drown my sorrow
Funny how sometimes you have to lose yourself
To be found
And all their will fall
Back to the pit where they belong

And when you are you
I could finally be me
You'll take my hand,
I'll break those walls
I built for years
and show you the way
to my heart

The blue of your eyes,
The cheesiest lines have been said for this shade
But has anyone told you,
The spark in them
Gives warmth to my bitterly cold heart

**And when you are you
I could finally be me
You would put arms around my waist
I could finally fall apart
Because yours are the hands I'll fall in.