The rain came down gently at first. Then the rain began to crash down.
Screaming.
Hiding the tears streaming down my cheeks.
Sure the rain was doing me a favor.
The night was cold.
Cold and windy.
The Stars had vanished with your memory.
You were in my past.
Someone I had to let go of.
I can't think of you anymore.
The rain felt nice on my freshly made cuts.
The clear water turning a red striking down my arm.
Idk why I'm writing this is just came upon me. No I will never lay a blade on my arm again.
Never cry for her again.
Never feel the pain she wants me to.

Last night’s nightmares carved me open
and bled me of all belief-
Like they had a map guide to every vein
and knew where your love was stored
I woke this morning so very empty
and tired.

I love the way you bleed,
From passion filled scars
Tempered with character
Dripping of joy and pain
Dripping of purity.
Your crimson ink
First of scraggly hieroglyphics
Meaningless on their own
Takes the form of words
Thriving; prosperous.
A transfusion begins
Seeping between my creases
Binding forever with my being.

i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those dyed eyes matched mine,
with lips as full as a novel and as red as lower worlds,
made me think you were a painting--of something most divine.

i thought you were a painting at first,
with the way those small hands rose as mine did,
with the way those lips tasted of cookie dough and warm sugar,
with the way those eyes never seemed to leave me for naught,
and abandon me in lakes.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when i approached and eels ignited my mind--
with the thought--the picture-- the painting of you, O dear,
and set my mind within seas--clouds--of gladiolus's.

i thought you were a painting at first,
with that ever-always smile,
for do you not bleed at the mouth,
with that kryptonic sunshine?

i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when my hand touched your sadistic smirk,
knowing i couldn't truly reach you,
and the heathers over-lapse me.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when my cheek touched your cool one,
and stained it with cherry pop blush,
for i know it's your favorite,
as you wear it to bed, all-while.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when i froze and my mind sung eulogies,
at my death at your satin feet,
for your beauty reaches past heaven.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when my smile synced with yours,
when they poked our eyes,
when they wrinkled our noses,
and when the sun shone still--even though ours were enough.

i thought you were painting at first,
until our lips met 'neath blue light,
and the shivers i bled,
fueled our world a-night.

for, dear, i thought you were a painting at first,
when i could see my heart beat--pace as yours,
and the moon and sun morphed--into entity,
and made us water lilies birthed with ravens.

i thought you were a painting at first,
when God told me,
'for you are the most beautiful person i have birthed from my lungs,
and spoke my heart to,
for you--and your painting here--are the only things that dance to my world.'

i thought you were a painting at first, my love,
when i bleed into pots and saw you doing the same,
now i know when my time is scuffed 'neath the barren sand,
your blood--our resin--stains lots.

lots.

lots.

for i know you're a stunning painting, O love,
for you lock many hearts.
i'd hope to own thrice of many,
so you could master theft over, and over, and over again.

i know you're a wondrous painting, O dear,
when people beg you to pose,
so they could see that beauty too, O love,
and kiss it a wish.

i know you're a masterpiece, love--
sweeter than melted butter,
and the finest of berries,
for you're worth--worshiped--much more than,
such mundane things.

i know you're a vintage classic, O wonder,
when my eyes turn blinding stars,
and fill up night skies.

for i knew you were a--

masterpiece...

master... piece...

master...   piece...

master.

for i knew you were a human, O master,
when my eyes gloss over in drunken clarity,
and my lips spill cider;
my hand becomes water at your touch,
for the pool knows no words,

to bask in my beauty.

Words ran constantly
Along these sheets of papers infront of me
As I shed tears for you dear
This will be the last poem, I promise

It may take me hours, months, or years
Till I put into words all the things that rhymed with your name
But this you should remember,
I dont care, for this is the last, I promise

Tonight, I wont write the saddest lines
Neither the happiest
This isnt for you to realize my worth
But to make you feel loved till I get hurt.

Sorry for I imprisoned you
In my web of words
Is it my fault?
You feel in love with a writer

Sorry for I got you shackled
In every hug I gave
Is it my fault?
I just want to keep you in my hold.

I saw museums in you,
You were a galaxy in me
A North Star, but why?
You treated me like a scratch.

Funny how I was there
In the moments you were just a bud
Now look at you,
A grown plant you became

You left me when you reach the edge
Stood in a tower
I was left on the ground
Still looking with hopes and happiness at you

My love, this I just wish.
Can you take care of yourself as I leave?
I didnt know I had been this weak.
Never got the chance to tell you Im this sick.

Words ran constantly
Along this papers soaked in tears
Did you know I bleed dry for you?
This will be the last, I promise dear.

**My ink has turned dry
My mind has been emptied
But my heart has kept you locked.
My love, I promise this is the last.
I'll be forever locked in my coffin soon.

I watch the moths bounce off,
And imagine every attempt
I’ve ever made to love.
I feel the night like they do,

I feel the flight like they do, futile,
And remaining drawn to the flames;
If only to pray upon altars ash.
And when the goddess leans

To burn once more,
When the mosquito licks my arm;
I scratch and scratch and scratch
To bleed;

I hope the one next to me,
I hope she slices when I sleep,
I hope she plants flowers,
I hope she was jubilant,

And if only for those few hours.

She is a felon
Of time in check.
She punctures
The seconds, minutes, hours
With thoughts, fantasies
That elude her own eyes.

She bleeds passing moments
And drinks them like wine.
She bleeds me, too,
For I am but a collection
Of years at a time.

Let me take you to the dark side of the woods
All that dies here is the good
Let me show you that spot
This is where I fought
He had me tied, I could go no where
I was terrified and scared
He did his deed
And left my soul forever to bleed
It will always seep with rage and anguish
Part of me will always remain and languish
There in the dark side of woods
That day all that died in me was the good