Absence is a strange occurrence,
a shapeshifter manifesting
in the most trivial things.
A presence where there is none.
Something never entirely gone.

there are roses growing
from my hands
My doubt the seeds
Begging them to grow

There are roses climbing
up my arms
digging in my skin
but i am numb
to their thorns and beauty

There are roses growing
in my lungs
bloodied petals
filling my throat
and falling from my lips

Tears are sliding
down my cheeks
I've had enough
I am to weak

Built from scraps of the past
Fastened together by screws
Made to love and be loved
Made possible by programmed heart
A beautiful maiden in metallic gray
A reflection of a lost love

She opens her eyes and silently
Caresses his face so warm yet weary
Then hugged him as she wiped his tears
The same reason that made him fall in love
Yet the same reason why something's missing

He can't bring back the dead and the past
Forever lost in the void, never to be seen
To live and move on, to carry on the present
He cried and cried harder than she wiped
As oil flows down her eyes