The winter air blows harshly at the faces of the unknown people blurring together with the downtown sidewalk. Everything is dimmed, gray scale haunting the color of the world. With snow wet feet I laid my track, pushing through the crowd, to await the arrival. My eyes set across the street, parallel to my stance is a somewhat farmiliar face. colored, crouching behind the comfort of his instrument, a constant victim of judgment, dependant on the forced smiles of humanity. Looking outward in his snow coverd direction, relation over comes sympathy; i'll throw a round dollar in his almost empty barrel.

Days had passed, while snow had fallen upon two faces. Stuck in mid gaze, snow flakes melt outward into droplets of cold. He lifts his frost bit finger and wipes one from her face with his thumb. Where they stand is flat, dull, she'd seen its predicable layout too many times. Too many cold nights spent standing on the little rectangle of cement identifying the bus stop along the stretched sidewalk. She places her head on his chest, the cold air working along with the silk inner lining of her coat to keep her chilled, and the rough texture of his coat itching at her red cheek. Not that she cared. Too many of these nights would never suffice. As his chin rest lightly upon the top of her head, she stand huddled deep into his unbuttoned coat, her hands placed comfortably inside his thin black sweater pockets. He says, "My bus is here". Instantly her arms tighten around him, taking in one single breath. She looks up, her nose just skimming his chin as the stubby facial hair pricks her skin. "I'll miss you" she says. Her arms wrap slowly around his neck, and he kisses her softly. Making the landscape she'd been dulled by, seem completely unfamiliar in his addicting taste.

As he mounts the bus from the uneven pavement, he will turn to her one last time. She is unaware that is moment is crucial. She is too hypnotized by the naive sense of comfort brought through his blue, tortured eyes to realize that this moment reenact itself, but only in mind. They exchange pleasant smiles before turning herself around to walk down the curving street through the deep snow as she had many times before. The somewhat dimmed glow coming from the streetlights always seemed to have the snow shimmering perfectly. I heavy ice blocks no longer represented a solid. Each tiny fragment, each particle was but a sparkle, floating down to the ground. Glistening at her, personally smiling approving of her new found happiness. She said she'd miss him, and truthfully, she did already. She had no idea what was coming next.

Hey impatient, well you sure took your sweet time. Sit with me now to tell whats been told all around. I don't hear you, nor does the silence burn. Faded lights drop, the show has just begun; each person in silhouette , not one of them triggering. I secretly wonder where you are. I'll wait for your face. Upon its arrival, a blank expression, you look through me. Each laugh, touch, draining out into the purgatory of my mistaken standard. Why don't you look scared?

My mind blocks our memory, but is unable to shade the image of your true interest. I hope her lips sting like yours did, for you to experience the withdrawal does not only suffice. What we were working on now bluntly forgotten, valueless in your cruel thought. Your torment is known, yet ignored more so than your actions, ill push another to the side beneath the sigh i hope your hiding.

I'll take a whiskey sour and cigarette please, their absence didn't make you proud. Highlighting your unjustified disappointment, Ive been told my face brings you regret. I hoped it'd never come to this, but in which case, I hope your subconscious still lingers here. I know you do not dream.

"Line up." Dancers in Que lacking costumes, they skip with matching feet amongst discarded lines. No longer in studio, they enter the materialistic world without recognition. Feet flexed, spinning back and forth between isles, separated by stacked metal. Familiar faces at each end, unfamiliar in their unexplained reasoning.

The rhythm is gone, they feel no need to dance. The three growing down in their child like state, they think no one is watching. The man in the black suit paces down their path as the laughter they mock echo's through the sound of the piano keys they're pushing. Each movement frosted in the slow glowing dust falling, coating their innosense in dark ash.

Taped feet skip softly against the matress of a floor. Each jump failed in its soft landing. The intructor leans forward over them, now all huddled together taking in the lecture with no real care. Surrounded my advertisements, not realizing the depth behind each sign, the one in white leans forward examining the un appriciated liturature, underpriced in its lack of interest. Her pale fingers trace the spine of a hard coverd book, suede at each corner.

Dust still freezing the scene, slowly she takes the heavy book in her two hands. flipping through the introductory pages, she feels nothing. Her finger feels a gash, and a drop of blood rolls down the page in mid turn to find farmiliar faces in the pages of this book. Confused, the young looks for comfort in explaining this to the dancer in blue, who does not play in, for the images of the farmilar fade into non exsistance at this time. No where to be found, no where to be seen in the bindings of the novel.
Instead, the pages of which the faces once were, corpses. Mutilated bodies thrown lifelessly acrossed page after page.

The pages continue turning, each flip bringing a new set of faces, not new within the dancer in whites mind. A mother, A father, dipicted in dark imagery inside the pages of an unfarmiliar book. The confused looks for comfort in explaining this to the instrucor in black, who does not play in.

The summer air hung low, creating fog around the hand I lay flat against the clear window I look out of. I picked up the leather handled bag, took a deep breath and stepped out the steel framed door. It was really happening, I was really doing it. A part of me was certain I would turn back when I hit the end of my long tree lined street, yet still, tears rolled down my face as if it would be the last time I would walk down the four chipping stairs that guard my home. The last time I would smell the fresh pastries from the Thompson family bakery down the road, or hear the birds chirping in the old elm tree that stand tall and dignified in my well kept yard. That based on the actions I was making, really wasn't "my yard" anymore. With every step I took I grew more and more regretful for my actions, but I knew I couldn't just run back passed the kitchen, and into my bedroom without consequence, and I was in no way willing, or wanting to face that. Turning the corner I tripped slightly over the uneven sidewalk. For the two seconds I had been off balance, the memories of me tripping over this very path with my first bicycle as a child, skipping jump rope down this street and being terrified to turn this very corner because it was unknown to me. The world was unknown to me. I felt the same then, and the feeling wasn't something of great love, of dignity, or even perseverance.

An hour of walking step after step had passed.I was in this frosted daze, not knowing what my destination was, I walked further and further passing the familiar scenery, now unfamiliar in its rebellion. In my travels I passed my old school, the first school I ever attended. Its playground seeming haunted and dead due to its lack of tossing rocks and children's screams. I stopped for a brief moment to gaze upon its flat, empty landscape. Its damp pavement and thin, stretched netting of basketball hoops both looking drained and tired. Looking back to when I once roamed this playground, I remembered how differently my young eyes once perceived this place. The sun was always bright, it would shine through the little bite holes that caterpillars left on leaves. The dry chalk substance on every child from digging their hands deep into the tiny pebbles surrounding the playground's metal base. I specifically remembered hanging off the metal monkey bars with both hands, with a body so small, looking down was terrifying. The three foot jump to the ground seemed impossible. I clung to the red painted metal bars crying and screaming, my hands swelling into one big callas until my little fingers let loose. The fall seemed like forever, but as soon as my Velcro strapped shoes hit the uneven rocks, I found myself wanting to climb those bars to only feel the fall once more. To be a victim, to love my fear. Thinking back to all these memories didn't ease my mind. Instead, I broke from my gaze to walk further away from anything I knew.

When you awake, you will remember everything.
you will be hanging on a string.
when you believe you will relieve the only soul you were born with
to only grow old and never know.

They warned me, its a mean old world.
The street dont greet you, yes its true.
Read the writing on the wall, I heard it all when I was small.
If I had thought it would do any good, I'd stand on the rock where moses once stood.

They showed me the fork in road.
You can take to the left or go straight to the right; use your days and save your nights.
Carefull where you step, and watch what you eat.
Sleep with the light on and you've got it beat.

You may be bright, and you may be wrong.
I will no longer worry all day long.
The snow is gonna come, and the frost is gonna bite.
The old soul froze up last night.
There isn't a reason to hang my head, I could wake up in the morning dead.

I washed my hands in thy water.
Played truth or dare with the captains daughter.
You keep walking the foot steps you cover, spreading the words to another, another.
She pulled the bottle back up to her lips, waves crashing harder in between the sips.
I hope she runs to tell her mother.
We're sure gonna' love eachother.

The unknown now haunts us, for the great is gone.
Each breath taken, unnoticed, unfocused through the sheer fade of reality.
Where are you now?
The fade has cleared, your memory vivid and crucial in thought.
Laughter echoing in half awoken states, the face never forgotten, but replayed in the dark minds of those who cry for you.
Though the needed is no longer in sight, the sun shines bright, down upon the empty place you once stood. We all stand teary eyed in admiration, for the great, the missed once stood there in our presence.

I saw something today, what i never thought i'd see.
Within a photograph you were happy next to me.
The flash burned us both, but your skin was always cold.
You did not dream, but spoke in the sweetest of sleep.

Tiny bites and laughter within yet another chapter
We walked the street so comfortably, only waited impatiently
Too soon, good , too cold for teeth to bare.
To see your face these days breaks through the constant haze
Forever embedding blinks in the spot of darkness when eyes come to a close.

You said "You always leave", and now you put the blame on me
I always left to make you stay, only divided by walls.
It hadn't rained in months but it would today.
On the darkest day of February, you walked away.

Months passed through seasons, all four winds come to close
A single soilder left in no mans land, a mind fading in and out
In last moments strength, echo'd steps and shell fire
It is your picture in blood hand that will fall.
But through all, I will return to you.

Sweet vice, a short term distraction from the sting of your absence.
The deeper I carve, the less you can see.
The markings that could've made history.
These sheets are haunted, for you linger here
Out of sight, but never out of eye
Come home, apple.

The winter air blows harshly at the faces of the unknown people blurring together with the downtown sidewalk. Everything is dimmed, gray scale haunting the color of the world. With snow wet feet I laid my track, pushing through the crowd, to await the arrival. My eyes set across the street, parallel to my stance is a somewhat farmiliar face. colored, crouching behind the comfort of his instrument, a constant victim of judgment. Dependant on the forced smiles of humanity. Looking outward in his snow covered direction, relation over comes sympathy; i'll throw a round dollar in his almost empty barrel.

A slight push against the large green door, but nothing follows. Pleasant strangers push through on their side, highlighting my absent mind. Through the industrial metal door bright lights hang high, memories of standing in that very place with a lovers embrace in hand flow inevitably, uncontrollably. Pacing lightly between unset tables, discarded chairs along the tiled floor. Finger tips tracing their brass handles lightly along steps. This crowd is not new, for their presence mocks the occasion.

In the far corner sit a frail, fragile looking elder. Her hair long and white bringing a sense of electricity with its fried string look. Seeing her there also brought comfort, for there is no recollection of being here without seeing her aged face. Looking at her incentively, intrusively almost, reading into the shaded fact that this senior citizen walking the streets with assistance, was once but a mere child chasing after boys to push her full plump lips against the desired.

Closer, only a few feet away from where I sit impatiently, the Town Crior. His blue faded over alls fit tightly around his heavy body. Truly identifying him, the small black pirate hat always worn on top of his balding head. I remember distinctively my fourth birthday, him sitting on a blue plastic lawn chair outside my first home bending and shaping balloons into animals, handing them out vastly amongst the cheerful children with their own party hats placed sideways on their heads. A story of disgust over took that pleasant childhood memory, replacing it with the image of distortion. His hands on a young womans face, pushing his unwanted tongue down her gasping throat outside of a well lit bar, only a street or two down the road from where I sat right then.

My eyes fix on the clock, squinting to gain focus on the blurred black numbers hung high against the far wall, I cannot see. Only the reoccurring tick of the thin red hand catches my eye, reinforcing the absence of the expected, though I would wait. Sitting there in silence, thoughts of the affection drown out the noise of the open public surrounding me, i am but a pawn. Forcing myself back into the lacking satisfaction of reality, ii begin to doubt the promised, but still hoping.

My fingers tap against the plastic covering of a disk inside a paper back sleeve, resting lifelessly on the fake marble spread table. Hours have passed now, the confused facial expressions of strangers tear down my strong forced smile. The slight noise of my finger tips hitting the thin plastic sounds rhythmic to me, but disturbingly catches the eye of a gruesome looking news paper fan, he is not impressed. An instant refrain, an instant heat wave of pressure teams with the tick, tock of the unveiwable clock. The battle begins, fighting until the first liquid drop is unraveled.

Standing now, I take my fingertips from the plastic lining. Pacing once again, I pass both the Elder and Town Crior, neither noticing my existence. I walk through the once discarded chairs, to see them now placed properly in their rightful place. I let out a final sigh, my palm placed against the cool winter frosted glass of the green industrial door. I take one final glance back at my empty spot, seeing nothing but the disk in the white sleeve laying still. Looking up, I hear the rough voice of the newspaper fan. "You have a good day, dear." he says.

Where are we going? Why are we here? Question upon question, running through my head at such a brilliant pace, creating heat and burning with its tension. Everyday a new question, everyday the same feeling of torture, but not today. Today is different, and from this dawn to nightfall, I will live and breathe with a new question on my mind, is she blind?

Stardust, my world, where do I begin to explain this ongoing frustration. Looking at you, I mean really looking at you, breaks me free from my gazed view of life, and puts me into a dream like state of awe. Inside this unnamable daze, I am left to register nothing but the pure, admirable qualities I see in you. I am left to only doubt her sanity, for she doesn't seem to see what's grasping at her fingertips. What will it take for her to open her eyes, to what I see in you.

Excuse this annoyance, though it dosent seem uncalled for in my eyes. You deserve the world, and the sky and so much more. I've found within our invisible lust a chain, a pattern, a hopeless cycle of heartbreak. The blinded are to you, what you have become to me. I know if I love to something to set it free, but im not strong enough to deal with the fact , you won't come back to me.

The gentle tips of the long blades of grass grew unevenly between my relaxed fingers. I could feel each note in the beautiful string of music being played behind me pulsating through my veins.
I’ve always had this fascination with outlook. Not the outlook of a perspective, or the outlook on a certain situation or emotion even, but the outlook of which you actually visualize your own self looking at someone else. Appreciating each delicate, intricate fragment of a persons very being, experiencing the energy that builds up the hard texture of there bones, that builds up the surroundings of that divine creations soul and inner purpose. What’s my inner purpose they ask me? Well, I’ll never tell.
You caught me squinting down at your skin, as I counted the lines, the character that defines your body as yours, I was dreaming of sinking into each line and each curve I could see and comfortably knowing there realm inside out. My cheek was cooled by the earth’s moisture, and my hand was on yours. I slowly pushed my thumb up and down the back side of your palm. As my darkened fingers traced you, I kept one eye closed at a time; I continuously switched my view from my left eye to my single right in an attempt to see if the beauty I was seeing would flash away with my next movement, to see if the addicting softness the tip of my thumb was experiencing would degenerate into the ground below me and be left as a memory of a comfort state, or a preferred position of that point in time.
You looked at me puzzled, in the corner of my eye I saw the way you looked inside me. For a moment it looked as though you were worried about me, and I immediately began to smile. I did not smile because I felt the warmth of you caring for my well being, I smiled because I cared for yours. I remember feeling like when you weren’t smiling, when your mind was in a place of uncertainty, when your thoughts were not of the happiness you had coming to you in the future; that all the happiness in the world drained away. In that very second, all the cold ocean water of the world drained forcefully out of its rightful place, the sun beaming down reflecting the color in your hair, cycled in a way of darkness. I smiled in that moment so your small sense of worry would drain out of your brain as quickly as the water left the sea, and thankfully, it did.
Minutes later my eyes were hypnotized by the repetitive, engulfing pulse like tap of hands on the drum. Where we lay was daring yet calming, I felt as though I was achieving some kind of mischief, when at the same time I felt the relaxing feeling of innocence of being a child. Protecting us with its vine like branches was a beautiful leafed tree. Within each glance at the wisdom filled tree, was a tiny glare of the suns image through the holes of the leaves that hung above the frantic fruit flies that circled us.
A sporadic flow of forced wind came and went. You were facing me, as you spoke I wondered and hoped if it was possible for the wind to somehow blow some of your beauty onto me, for it to soak into my sun warmed skin and mold into who I am. Your beauty is the kind of essence people long to capture in a edited snap shot, enhancing the features and characteristics of the a person because those characteristics couldn’t possibly be possessed by someone in reality. Your outside, the rare color of your eyes, and the strange gestures you create with your hands, are the very qualities that draw viewers to grow an attachment to a rare unsolvable movie character in the mere two hours that they have witnessed them. I watched your lips move in slow motion beneath the mixed coulored sky. I turned my head to the left one last time seeing only the tips of the grass once more and the faded off side veiw of my hand laying lifelessly beside me. I watched you balance yourself slighty upon your back foot until you were standing above me, I then watched you turn around and walk away silently. In that moment the landscape that surround me began to shift and change, before leaving me to yet another sleepless night.
Some how lacking total energy, I managed to pull myself from the ground long enough to rest my chin in the palm of my hand with my elbow digging into the cold moist earth. My face was being brushed by the cool breeze and you were still on my mind. I stare up blankly into the sky at a tall metal sign naming the stores of the near by plaza. I wonder then if you, somewhere, where ever you may be, are looking at something similar. Just then it hit me, every step I take along the rough dirt road, every breath I exhale followed by a shadow of cold outlining its exsistance is simply a mirror image. Do you think about me while you drive in your car? do your actions have my invisible reactions stamped upon them like mine to yours? I doubt it, though still I would rush through miles upon miles of deathly thorns to feel your lips press lovingly against mine. Forever in my heart you will be, always on my mind you will stay even when you are not wanted, although a picture of me not craving your exsistance is unable to be painted in my world, for you, my love, are just that.

The gentle tips of the long blades of grass grew unevenly between my relaxed fingers. I could feel each note in the beautiful string of music being played behind me pulsating through my veins.
I’ve always had this fascination with outlook. Not the outlook of a perspective, or the outlook on a certain situation or emotion even, but the outlook of which you actually visualize your own self looking at someone else. Appreciating each delicate, intricate fragment of a persons very being, experiencing the energy that builds up the hard texture of there bones, that builds up the surroundings of that divine creations soul and inner purpose. What’s my inner purpose they ask me? Well, I’ll never tell.
You caught me squinting down at your skin, as I counted the lines, the character that defines your body as yours, I was dreaming of sinking into each line and each curve I could see and comfortably knowing there realm inside out. My cheek was cooled by the earth’s moisture, and my hand was on yours. I slowly pushed my thumb up and down the back side of your palm. As my darkened fingers traced you, I kept one eye closed at a time; I continuously switched my view from my left eye to my single right in an attempt to see if the beauty I was seeing would flash away with my next movement, to see if the addicting softness the tip of my thumb was experiencing would degenerate into the ground below me and be left as a memory of a comfort state, or a preferred position of that point in time.
You looked at me puzzled, in the corner of my eye I saw the way you looked inside me. For a moment it looked as though you were worried about me, and I immediately began to smile. I did not smile because I felt the warmth of you caring for my well being, I smiled because I cared for yours. I remember feeling like when you weren’t smiling, when your mind was in a place of uncertainty, when your thoughts were not of the happiness you had coming to you in the future; that all the happiness in the world drained away. In that very second, all the cold ocean water of the world drained forcefully out of its rightful place, the sun beaming down reflecting the color in your hair, cycled in a way of darkness. I smiled in that moment so your small sense of worry would drain out of your brain as quickly as the water left the sea, and thankfully, it did.
Minutes later my eyes were hypnotized by the repetitive, engulfing pulse like tap of hands on the drum. Where we lay was daring yet calming, I felt as though I was achieving some kind of mischief, when at the same time I felt the relaxing feeling of innocence of being a child. Protecting us with its vine like branches was a beautiful leafed tree. Within each glance at the wisdom filled tree, was a tiny glare of the suns image through the holes of the leaves that hung above the frantic fruit flies that circled us.
A sporadic flow of forced wind came and went. You were facing me, as you spoke I wondered and hoped if it was possible for the wind to somehow blow some of your beauty onto me, for it to soak into my sun warmed skin and mold into who I am. Your beauty is the kind of essence people long to capture in a edited snap shot, enhancing the features and characteristics of the a person because those characteristics couldn’t possibly be possessed by someone in reality. Your outside, the rare color of your eyes, and the strange gestures you create with your hands, are the very qualities that draw viewers to grow an attachment to a rare unsolvable movie character in the mere two hours that they have witnessed them. I watched your lips move in slow motion beneath the mixed coulored sky. I turned my head to the left one last time seeing only the tips of the grass once more and the faded off side veiw of my hand laying lifelessly beside me. I watched you balance yourself slighty upon your back foot until you were standing above me, I then watched you turn around and walk away silently. In that moment the landscape that surround me began to shift and change, before leaving me to yet another sleepless night.
Some how lacking total energy, I managed to pull myself from the ground long enough to rest my chin in the palm of my hand with my elbow digging into the cold moist earth. My face was being brushed by the cool breeze and you were still on my mind. I stare up blankly into the sky at a tall metal sign naming the stores of the near by plaza. I wonder then if you, somewhere, where ever you may be, are looking at something similar. Just then it hit me, every step I take along the rough dirt road, every breath I exhale followed by a shadow of cold outlining its exsistance is simply a mirror image. Do you think about me while you drive in your car? do your actions have my invisible reactions stamped upon them like mine to yours? I doubt it, though still I would rush through miles upon miles of deathly thorns to feel your lips press lovingly against mine. Forever in my heart you will be, always on my mind you will stay even when you are not wanted, although a picture of me not craving your exsistance is unable to be painted in my world, for you, my love, are just that.

Suddenly I feel you, your presence slowly curving and unwinding almost invisibly around me like cigarette smoke. My breathe is shortening, and the built up feeling of your loving embrace haunts my every moment. I closed my eyes with my fingers placed lightly on the white printed letters of my keyboard. Sitting in silence, I picture the image of your hand moving slowly across my skin, with each tremble I feel the tips of your fingers taking me from reality. It's a funny thing, reality, though so far it seems as though reality hasn't quite come into play yet; Truthfully I'm a bit scared you'll forget about me before It has a chance to. It started so simply, three clicks of a button and you appeared out of no where, to this day I don't understand how someone so beautiful hasn't been discovered and hidden away from the world to be loved by one single person, them not daring to share such irregular perfection with anyone else. Although to some extent I see that you hide yourself away, and with each day I start to understand more and more what you're hiding from, I only hope that you will never hide yourself away from me, or ever feel the need to.

Everyday I struggle to tell you, tell you how I feel and what I wish we had, I struggle to tell you what I want to be for you, yet at the same time I struggle to keep it all inside; To keep my overwhelming feelings from escaping me, in the fear that they would resemble some kind of meaningless, disturbing babble from your perspective. Still sitting on my manufactured pine wood computer chair, I search for some kind of explanation for what I have been feeling inside my mind, trying even harder to connect each feeling of nervousness, each separate occurrence of the cliche' jittery butterfly feeling your words tend to give me, attempting to pull my mind away from what my mind has formed an addiction to, the imaginary feeling of your kiss, the feeling of my hands in yours, and the feeling I tend to dream of most, your love.

Over the time I have come to know you, I have realized my biggest downfall, and it can be blamed on no one but myself. I feel as though lately, mostly when applied to you, i've let my mind run too fast and carry my thoughts to you when usually I would be fighting those thoughts away as well I could. These thoughts of you bring me to a place of peace, yet at the same time each image of you in this blurred twist of reality brings a desperate, aching chill to my bones, as if their hard texture is pushing intensely to slip from my skin, to be somewhere, anywhere closer to you.

Today I sat impatiently on the green painted bench of the bus stop while the bitterness of the outdoors ate away at the depleting warmth of my skin. The wind blew harshly at my face as I attempted to distract myself from the cold by forcing my attention upon my surroundings, decribing each intricate detail over and over in my head. Unfortunatley what caught my eye only rebrought the thought of you. It seemed as though everywhere I went some form of highher power be it Karma or Fate, was working it's ways to highlight your absense with the sight of love every step of my path. I would see the warmth within two lovers embrace, I would see the nervous smiles and comfortable touch, leaving me begging my mind to spare me of the image of us replacing the two strangers walking hand in hand upon the lonely sidewalk.

I moved my head slowly from right to left, now facing the wind directly. The icy cold needle feel of the wind brushed somewhat softy against my face, though I knew once I was indoors my face would sting from the freezing breeze's harshness. I tried to once again over come my mind, placing controlled thoughts of warmth in action. Unfortunatley, these thoughts would not over come my senses for long. It was then that I came to realize that if you had been there, sitting next to me on that paint chipped bench, the blistering cold would hardly register to me due to the shadowing essense of your presence.

"Love is blind." they say, however I do not agree. To be blinded is to lack sight, to be deprived of the tiny aspects of life that build up our surroundings. Somehow a statement so commonly related to, leads me astray when applied to you. If love is blind than I too am not a part of reality, for I have come to admire every single intricate, admirable, unbelievable quality you seem to posses that draws me completely into you, the ones you seem to be ashamed of as well, seen by me on the same level as the qualities you do not hide, taken in with no downfall. I have come to see your face in my very own blurred state of life, your voice and thoughts defining my every step. Love is true, and love has found me.

Take these words from where they once hung
each knot within me now cut, built in twine, fully undone.
Tend to the cloud i see appearing when you're near, ive done what I can, done for you my dear.

Started with just one kiss, can't say I'm proud to admit this
you really had me then, it never left so I can't say when.
Open your heart and let me in, to you id be true (not a single sin)
I know I can shield you from those who want to hurt you (weak in strength but my love for you, never thin)


Throw this space and time away from your heart, a feeling so simple yet unable to chart.
Build me up once more, your love showing me an open door
Crush me again my love, under your foot, my heart, the floor. (how did I get here)

Tragedies of comfort so effortlessly spun, bring me back to the day that our hearts were one.
back to the time, when words were all we had, you told me you felt it too (baby what am I to do, now?)
Without you here I'll fade, the brutal cold has changed us, I never did what I was told.

Started with just one miss, can't say I'm proud to admit this
you were my ball and chain, the days you felt the same.
Just take my hand once more, your touch is all im praying for (on my knee's ill pray for this)
your mouth locked with mine, pull me from reality just one last time (on my knee's, just one more kiss)