I had not realized until now
The love that I was longing for and wasn't allowed
It had always existed within me since eternity
How My mind has loved my heart so gorgeously
It sketches , it paints , it sculpts a world so new
of everything that lies in its preview
My mind envisages so beautifully
and let my heart absorb it presuambly
This gift is the only reality
as it gives hope to let my heart beat willingly
The day you'll be tired of your paint and brush
My Heartbeats will make no rush
Before you calm down together
Your love for my heart is rarest of rare...

the dawn is painting pictures on the emptiness of this town
shadows are engulfing the silence
I breathe in the cold of the snow and the familiarity of home
but here I can’t shake the feeling of being lost

so for only a while
I go away from the lights and the banners with my name
my steps carry me away from the noise of their praise
one moment in a year to myself

a scarf to hide the features they can recognize
wandering aimlessly in the worn-down streets
it has been a while since a peace has engulfed me
far too long a time since it wasn’t about me

and I remember what it was like
more than a year ago in the same loneliness of the lights
I remember what the country felt like on my spine
they saw how I failed every single person who believed in me

I remember the fear that gripped every nerve of my being
trying to drown it out with music and snow
staying away from a home that might not welcome me
but the ice would always draw me in

impulsively touching the cold metal around my finger
I think of what awaits me behind doors
it is a place where I can truly belong
a safe haven that only I know every vein of

and so I trace my steps towards a new home
knowing that now my moonlight is asleep
I have a few hours until his eyes flutter awake
a few hours to think about what it feels to have him beside me

I do not need to dream tonight
knowing that somehow someone who hid behind everything
someone who was invisible in every way
was seen by the person who the stars crafted

and he will be there in the morning
the sun will be illuminating every plane of him
and his light will manage to chase away my darkness

I've painted roses on ripped canvas
but the thorns of the rose
just ripped it more.

I've painted roses on ripped canvas
claiming it was art
when it just covered abuse

I've painted roses on ripped canvas
and then just tore it apart
I cant fix this, just start over

I've painted roses on new canvas
and I felt empty.
A change of canvas hasn't changed me.

Say it over and over again
I repeat to myself
In hopes I will heed my own warning

I tell myself to let go
But my heart is the one behind the reins
And it’s dragging me into the swamp

She wears a fake smile
Bearing her perfect white teeth
An illusion i'm only just starting to see past

Because reality is not as pretty as the pictures you paint
Or as your voice when you sing me lies
Ugly is my denial of reality that kept me coming back for more

I've been wishing for you,
wishing on you;
Is this the reason why
my dreams don't come true
because they don't need to?
When you're here
dancing as the pale moonlight
across my shadowed skin;
it's only in the dark
when I can let you in,
and we can see each other
best and in our brightest.
So paint yourself on the canvas of my thoughts;
allow me to be the blank pages you need.
I'll empty myself for you to fill me whole
with this dance of the thirteenth month—
a tribute birthed out of this tune.
When it ends I'll never move again
the same way I did before:
because now you are the echoing pulse of my bloodstream,
and I'm completely anew like the full moon.

Every time I try to tell someone,
Anyone,
It comes rushing through my eyes instead
Let me paint you a picture,
A self-portrait from painful pastels
And punishing paints

Living in a lonely world,
In my lonely mind,
It gets tiring.

I wish someone could see past my fronts.
Look at me;
See a real person,
And not the mask I wear

I know I could take it off
I should
I would
I can't

It's my only defense.

Because if they don't like my mask, it's fake.
But if they hate me, it's too real.

And every time I try to tell you,
It comes pouring from my eyes instead.

Let me wear these sarcastic stripes
and austere arches.
My sorrowful scene.  

This picture isn't pretty-
far from perfect.
But it is me.