i dream of setting things on fire
and watching as they turn to ash;
like lovers, tempted by desire,
surrender to the call of flesh.

some flames can never be extinguished,
some marks pierce skin right to the bone.
some pyres are better left unfinished,
some prayers make you feel alone.

but when the blazes take you higher,
the sky grows crimson in a flash.
i dream of setting things on fire
and watching as they turn to ash.

when the fire is bright
it leaves burns on your hands,
it takes scars and paints over
in warm strokes of red;
and it keeps you alive
while you keep it alight.
it's a matter of time
before you run out
of things you could feed it;
as much as you need it,
all fires are meant to die.
it turns pain into heat
and makes you feel loved,
but it keeps you alive
only as long
as you keep it alight.
when it burns from the inside,
it's so easy to lose your mind
when the fire is bright.

i don't want to be seen,
feel my touch on your cheek;
i don't want to be seen at all,
but the razors are sharp
and the curtains are drawn.
i don't want to be seen
lying down on the floor.
if you hold me, i'll break,
if you kiss me, i'll know;
but the panic runs through,
spinning out of control.
i don't want to be seen,
but my thoughts drown in ink
and the pages are torn.
i don't want to be seen,
feel my touch on your cheek;
i don't want to be seen at all.

do you remember the person
that you were
five years ago?
ten years ago?
do you think they were better
at living your life?
would they hold your hand now
or push you off the edge
of your endless agony,
that all-consuming sadness
that's eating away at your mind?
would they take a picture
or just walk by?
do you still wish to go back,
catch up with all the lost time
and make things right?
you're the only version of yourself
that's available
right here and right now,
and did you ever consider
that it's for the best?
maybe past belongs in the past,
maybe you're happier without it.
everything looks more appealing
through the lens
of nostalgia,
but if you remember the person
that you were
five, ten years ago,
do you still think they were better
at living your life?
or are you finally ready
to make it yours?

can't you see this house is empty?
can't you see i've given up?
can you fill this void
with something else
'cause i'm all out of love?
and the walls are crumbling down,
and the ceiling is on fire,
and the only reason we're still here
is because you'd rather lie
than admit that we're unhappy,
but i think it's time to stop.
can't you see this house is empty?
can't you see i've given up?

it's not my heart
inside your hands,
it's not the sky
that bleeds with rain.
it's not the tears
that fill a glass,
it's not the wine
that leaves a stain.
it's not my love
that lay so still
when you came home
the other day.
it's not the gaps
between the words
you didn't hear,
i couldn't say.
it's not the end
that makes it stop,
it's not the time
that takes the pain.
it's not the tears
that fill a glass,
it's not the wine
that leaves a stain.

my sea is overflown,
my sea is empty.
the shores are made of ash,
where memories disappear,
where dreams decay and die.
my sea is what i am,
my sea is what you made me.
while every loss feels fresh
inside my mind,
i open up my wrists to start a flood,
i bleed the rivers dry to fill a tub,
i write a conversation for us both;
you're still alive,
i'll soon become a ghost.
my sea is set ablaze,
i'm running out of time.
although my heart is yours,
the sea is mine.