His eyes were not the reminder of a once well known friend they were the reminder that I only got three hours of sleep last night and there's a test on something I couldn't wrap my brain around because I was too busy searching how to tie a noose on a screen to bright for my tired eyes. I never knew he'd show up unexpectedly at dinner and I could almost see my mothers nose crinkle in disgust either from the stench of my lack of motivation or simply the smell of death. He had this way of holding himself. Hands shaking like a ticking time bomb or way to ready to jump to the next thing to ease the situation.
To ease the situation.
Ease the situation.
The smile carved as big as the jokers planted on a pale face and sunken eyes.
he had bags under his eyes.
bags under his eyes
Under his eyes.
Grimacing under growing bruises and bones that creaked with every movement because he is like an old house. Fun to look at and imagine what it was like in its glory days but spiderwebs and dust seem to be a better turn off than the word no.
No one told them that depression is a battle ground that theyd have to pick up their long lost child from.

So what I'm really tryin' to say is, and what I hope you understand
Is despite all the imperfections of who I am I still wanna be your man
I know it hasn't been easy for us to talk with everyone being around,
But this is, this is personal, this is for me and you
And I want you to know that I still love you
And I know the seasons may change,
But sometimes love goes from sunshine to rain
But I'm under this umbrella and I'm calling your name
And you know I don't wanna lose that
I still believe in us
I still believe in love
I still believe in us
I hope you believe in love
The way I believe in us

I have had experience with death,
Ever since I was a kid.
When my father drew his last breath,
Things became ****.

Mother explained that death is like mash potato,
Once you mash a potato there's no return,
And that would be the pulling of the curtain,
No show left.
That is like death, a person breaking beyond,
Coming back together.

Every now and then instead of feeling blue or sad,
Or even lonely,
I would feel like mashed potatoes,
And that's the best way I would sugar coat,
Feeling broken beyond pieces,
Beyond repair...

Struggling to stay alive,
We found ways to survive,
That was when we found love.
A feel that the sky is over us,
That it will always be above,
And the clouds rained of fluff,
Showering us in nothing but love.

Love penetrates the clouds,
To let the sunshine pass through,
For wherever the sky enshrouds,
There lives a little love too.

Your bright blue eyes,
Shined bright in the midnight sky.
I could feel your heart beat as I lay on your chest,
Not knowing what would happen next.
You sit up, run your fingers through my hair,
And gave me a sensational kiss, and said you loved me
I knew then that you really did care.
I forgot about all my previous scars,
As we continued to look at the stars.
I thought I knew what love was before,
But now I realize,
There was something else in store.

I couldn't think of a better blade than you
                     Because you cut so deep
        *You don't leave any trace that whatever you sever even existed

We fell apart,
Before we even knew where to start,
Because all along, everything I did for you was from the heart.

Between being found
And being lost,
I found myself lost.
It was loss after loss after loss,
People without a clue to the cost,
I went upon the big cross,
Praying that one day our paths would cross,
And that faces won't remain memories in gloss.
It was a constant scene of funerals and death,
Losing another person I refuse to accept,
But then time came and another person breathed his last breath,
I felt that was enough.
To never trust love,
Saw my skies down below and not above,
denounced my religious teaching,
Because while they were preaching,
I saw that prayers didn't work right away,
So I waited another day.

I took up religion again,
But it isn't exactly a pen,
You can't put it down and pick it up,
...
That's where I am in question,
Always in constant obsession,
Of whether there is hell or heaven.

Memory is truly fickle,
Unable to describe songs,
Yet can taste a pickle,
For its taste being wrong.

The human mind is trained,
To remember the tainted,
The sounds of an ankle sprained,
Over the painting an artist painted.

We remember the heartaches and pain,
But we forget the beauty prior,
We rarely ever complain,
About the dance but complain about perspire.