Delilah
If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand. I hope you find out what you are.
I already know what I am. And if it makes you less sad, we’ll start talking again and
you can tell me how vile I already know that I am. I’ll grow old and start acting my
age. I’ll be a brand new day in a life that you hate. A crown of gold, a heart that’s
harder than stone. And it hurts to hold on, but it’s missed when it’s gone. Call me a
safe bet, I’m betting I’m not. I’m glad that you can forgive. I’m only hoping that as
time goes, you can forget. If it makes you less sad, I’ll move out of the state. You can
keep to yourself. I’ll keep out of your way. And if it makes you less sad, I’ll take your
pictures all down. Every picture you paint, I will paint myself out. It’s cold as a tomb
and it’s dark in your room, when I sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds. So
call it quits or get a grip. You say you wanted a solution … you just wanted to be missed.
You are calm and reposed. Let your beauty unfold. Pale white like the skin stretched over
your bones. Spring keeps you ever close. You are second hand smoke. You are so fragile
and thin, standing trial for your sins, holding onto yourself the best you can. You are
the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins. Call me a safe bet, I’m betting I’m not