I’m in the highest tower picking petals off of flowers.
Listening to the sound of silence, this is what I do for hours.
It never was about the extremities of youth which everyone had.
I lay on the bed.
I keep account of the boys I yearned for but I never had.
Like a princess in the highest tower I spent my best years.
An endless pandemic it is.
I do dust angels, dust angels.
I’m a ******.
I’m a harlot.
I’m God’s favorite.
A dragonslayer’s love interest.
But in this tower I’ve no choice but to stay.
My prince must’ve died on his way.

Nothing.
The dreams don’t exist.
The fears don’t exist.
Memories.
Relationships.
It’s all empty space.
Love affairs.
The dogmas.
Gaping wounds, wide smiles.
Unsaid things, joy rides.
Broken hearts, good deeds.
There’s nothing in this place.
Just silence.
Absoluteness.
Peace.
But the place where I’m at right now has every one of those things.

I did it again.
I am a victim of self abasement.
I let my fear get the best of me.
Take a smile away from me.
I’m falling back into the basement.

Nothing such as the nagging feeling whether it’s love or a one week thing.
A perfect mixture of affection and greed but never sure if they blend well.
On the water surface there’s ripples and watercolor palaces.
Like spilled paint.
Dancing from left to right.
Is it wrong or right?
He’s cute but I already got someone.

I never lock the gate to my personalities manor.
I’m in Denmark but I wish I was with him in Oregon.
It’s most likely a come-and-go kind of situation.
But regardless, I wish he was here watching the buildings dance.
Their reflections.
That resplendent street in Copenhagen.
It’s like they melted like I melted when I met him.
Like a watercolor palace.

Dark hair, cute eyes, yes, I like that.
But it’s not everything about a man I want.
My fetish is honesty, realness, when he listens.
When he tells me I said the same thing twice.
If you think that we’re not meant then don’t prolong it.
What’s meant to crash will crash anyway.
And don’t you ever break my heart for fun.
It’s always been my least favorite metaphor.
And my least favorite reason to run.

Cause my heart doesn’t break.
If they told you I scream your name at midnight it was fake.
But don’t you say a word to your friends.
I know your address.
Why don’t you straight up say it to my face.
That you knew we were not meant and let me crash into you.
You closed the gate in the last second.
Was quite the explosion.
And I still remember that look on your face.
It was so unattractive.
That smell of a sweet fruit that’s gone stale.
My kink is real **** but you were just fake.

And I finally mean it when I say I’m over you.
Cause my heart doesn’t break.
And I finally mean it when I say I’m over you.

Beguile me like bioluminescence.
I love you, doe-eyed siren, take all my money.
My friends envy caused them virescence.
They’re too casual to see my summer tan.
But he’s just my type.
But he’s what I like.
I hear assurances of love twice as much.
Like a werwolf, come night I am a ****.
But he doesn’t cry on my shoulder ever.
I only trash my curse of obsolescence.
But he’s so attractive.
He’s exactly what I want.
But before I throw it in the fire.
Let me get my summer tan on.

Aquamarine swimming costumes don’t make me blend in enough.
Pearls poked through and imprisoned with a string hanging about.
Just want to kiss you on the bridge.
Bend you backwards over the railing as we do.
Stare at the blue lights in the swimming pool.
Most of all be with you.
I opened like a pearl from the ocean depths.
But I think I’m closing up again.

Wonder what you think of me.
If you said you needed me right now, I’d break my back to be there.

I often contemplate how you perceive me.
And if I were a magician, still wouldn’t read your mind.
Let the truth be hidden.

But don’t you think I’m marrying you for the money, boy.
It’s not true.
Don’t let my attitude fool you.
I’m not mean, just defensive.
And I think I’m closing up again.