to have gone through all of this, and to be as soft as i am, is truly a tragic delicacy. but still people perceive me as naive. i suppose they are no longer supportive of kindness.
if i had a dollar for every stolen glance we’ve shared i believe id be a multi millionaire.
i’ve always been told
that 3am is some haunted hour
where your subconscious thoughts
claw their way into reality
but 4am is the true evil
it’s the unbearable silence
when the monsters in my head
stand at the edges of my vision
to watch me toss and turn
i came home with blood on my hands and you were terrified of what i’d done to someone. it never occurred to you that the blood on my hands was my own.
my brothers are the only people on the planet i would dare to call mine.
the clouds are as angry as i am.
i have bookshelves of dreams. all dying to be the one i choose to live out.
believe it or not, i am still very much in love with you.
no matter how high i jump, how fast i run, how many cities i pass through, how many dollars i spend; i will always end up staring right back at you.
i can feel myself falling. and i have never ever been happier.