Can you hear the music inside you, the instruments of pure passion?  

I can see it in your heart  

Beams overhead singing deeply, warming and glowing  

You are merely the product of my dreams  

I hang sweeping this fog alone and icy  

Swallowing these purple and red words, pale and invisible  



And my chest opens to you, but to you my heart is invisible

I can feel my soul trembling, can you sing to it with passion

Can you hold my heart in your fingertips, cold and icy

smelling the goats and strong and mature bark, dancing with my heart

How can I forget you, when all the time I spend with you is in my dreams.

Load this gun and place your passion in the chamber and watch me fade; glowing.



Can you feel my heart glowing?

Do your eyes penetrate my soul, or am I invisible?

Can you trap my thoughts and steal away my dreams?

Can you share your light and spend some of it on me, enlighten me with your passion

Take my heart

Can you sing to it, can you defrost it, it is icy.



Be like a thief and steal me away, take my heart, and the shadows that are icy

Your bag of hearts you have stolen, deadly and glowing

These souls tormented by you also, you hang their heart

And still, I remain invisible?

I scratch at this cage, haunted by what – your passion

Let me lay here still and die in my dreams.







Why do I continue to hope, why can I only have dreams?

This aisle is deadly, gridlocked and icy

Submissive to the heights of your words in passion

Take my feet here and steal, your footprints are glowing

Mine are – to you- invisible

But they lay down structures for my heart



And so, I beg you, don’t steal my heart

Let me rest and hope in my dreams

Make yourself invisible

Cold and icy

Leave the shadows glowing

And leave me alone, struck by passion



Just let me go, you have struck this chord and left me with passion

You have left my heart glowing

And now I shall sleep again, cold and icy.

I slept in the dark fog

Whilst you delighted in the drip of another's golden charm

I sit here with our memories in a catalogue

The air blends into a heart and now I stare at my own soul in alarm



Everyone's swimming in sweet memories,

A glance from across the room

Is enough to last for centuries

And make their heart bloom



But we lay here so far apart

And your skull does not even fracture by my screams

Your soul is composed like a piece of art

But I stand here resting my arms alone on these cold beams


Perhaps things were just not meant to be?

So now I must stand alone again in this sea.

Distance is not merely the death of love, but the match that lights the flame; before it dies out again.

People think that pouring gold onto our skin,

and dressing in Gods’ gown and Jewlery

will spring angels upon our plate,

and we can feast like it's our last meal.

but our skin is rather useless,

it hides our heart and soul,

drowns it in confusion and

stabs its arms and legs to a cross,

lingering in the single moment,

never to move with the essence of time,

Frozen.



Our hearts are who we are truly,

not the skin we wear,

or the snapshots of their whole existence  

we have imagined

to capture the essence of their character.



People are more than a moment,

they are a transcendental soul,

trapped in the weak boundaries of human nature.

Summers warm grip smiles,

Morphs in winters icy stare,

My love for you wanes.

The crooks and crannies of my soul

stung at the sharp moon crescent

carving me.

And I lay cradling my soul



Our eyes merely lingered,

shot through the hourglass of time.

Your transparent whiteness should not

Afford such string in my spine.



My conscience lies in debt

With understanding of

You.

Yet my soul lives in enriched by

Your ivory skull

  

I know that my presence  

is merely a glance that doesn't hold a shadow,

but you grasp my thoughts and strangle them

Until there’s no space left



My mind is convicted of your fever,

a disease that lingers in my arteries.

You did not merely skirt my periphery,

you dragged a blade, cursing me,

eruptions of tantalizingly immoral pain,

a pendulum of knives

left to hang in silence,

swinging from one end to the other,

Then your emptiness shadows me.

Close to the edge.



You left me.

I should never have met you.