I push the knife deep into my chest.

The blood that comes serves one purpose.

To tell stories.

I dip the quill into my lifeblood.

The words spill onto pages. 

Paints a picture of loneliness, yearning.

More blood fills the page.

No matter how much blood, how many pages,

The blood continues to spill.

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I am on a familiar road.

I've memorized the scenery.

The numbers on mailboxes too.

At one point they mattered.

I am on a familiar road.

The same patterns and puzzles from years ago.

The same empy faces and fake smiles,

No matter how far I drive.

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I waken in the morning from the same dream.

Her face watches through the windows of my life. 

I can feel her eyes, constantly peering.

I push my face against the glass, 

Catching the hint that she was here.

I beat the glass, palms bloody, throwing all my strength to escape to her.

Finally the glass shatters, I clamber out the window, 

Finding myself alone, left to rebuild the ...

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The Sun rises, then sets

through the dark night

the Moon is set alight.

Driving away complete darkness.

The Moon then calls the Sun,

Back to Life.

Constantly seeing eachother,

only shortly together.

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I am full of love,

love that builds up in my chest,

continuously building,

until all I have,

Is a cacaphony of love inside.

A knife pierces me and I am left with nothing,

nothing but my bloodtinged love to stuff back inside. 

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On a cold Fall night, we fell.

We fell through days, months and finally years.

Through the falling, the dark & unknown,

our eyes never stopped looking back,

to that first Fall night.

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If there ever was a scent nostalgic to me, it would be Vanilla.

A sweet scent that lingers in breeze of Fall.

It reminds of younger days spent outside.

Of days spent fighting fate, 

trying to escape the constraints of life.

Of a love that though not lost, is missing.

Oh, vanilla, my mind is always on you.

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The years have been unkind to us both. 

We have both tried to survive by ourselves, without the other.

We have countless demons and survived with just the skin on our backs.

Flayed and bleeding we have walked our paths alone. 

Paths that lead us back to cold fall night years ago,

Vanilla perfume and smoke in the air.

Memories, unmade. Love to pain, yet we endure.

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Watching the water pour out of my faucet,

Reminds me of the years I have spent,

Giving love when I can, to those I care about.

Of all the blood I have bled,

Heart always beating

Of the screams in a bedroom,

When the night is neverending.

Of all the effort put in,

Going down the drain.

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My Muse of Fate, 

tells a story of love that can't be.

Of love that should not be tried.

Too many ifs and buts,

Too many sleepless nights,.

Too many silent screams.

Yet my Muse of Fate,

always returns.

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Somewhere there is love

Somewhere there are brighter days.

Somewhere, not yet found.

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The lines on my face tell stories.

Stories of love and pain.

Love, a gleeful thing that brings happy days, brighter stars, and cold falls.

Pain, a terrible thing that hurts.

Brings tears, tears, and cuts the joy from your heart.

Regardless, the stories must be told.

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Love,

Do not be afraid of hurting me.

For I have lived and died 1000 lifetimes since that cold fall night,

When we first wished upon us.

And I have learned,

That love,

will sometimes burn.

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In my dreams I see your face.

You look older, and happier.

I want in my bed for sleep to take me, 

So I can be reuinited with you.

                    My  everaching heart

                    yearns for you.

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A few months ago I got a tattoo, 

But the first tattoos we get are called scars.

Not all are physical, in fact they rarely are,

However they stay with us.

Freckles on my arms I see as the constellations we spent nights looking up at.

The backs of my eyelids contain superimposed images of every moment we spent together.

My eardrums still hear the echo of every song you've showed t...

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There is a pit in my stomach, a burning desire in my chest, A love that leaves me concussed.

I know that I cannot escape it.

My head is a mess, when I see your face the image is clear to me.

A line I wrote all those years ago,

Paper Stars will always shine the brightest.

Maybe everything happens for a reason, maybe one day we'll reunite,

Under a sky, of Paper Stars.

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