I saw you like a pack of my favorite matches

and patches sewn over holes in proud hearts holding

on to heavy hands lifted and lost in ways

wondered over whiskey and rhum, hearts hum

in tandem, never at random, at least not for us

in our trust, toiled and never teetered

in every word of "you should leave her" and yes

you made me doubt. Doubt every night that shone the moon

gnawed by maliced maws mourned by you and you alone

Oh you. Only you. Felt like home for every night the moon shone dim

every night you left your arms open for more than warmth, but love.

While wars waged and wills wavered but not us, love

you kept me holding so, love. Hold. On.

Please. For every other sunset we do not see together

but we take comfort in that we see them at all

we beat odds others only hoped to. so, hold

on to my wrists and I to yours, love

hold on to me and I to you

love

you'll always be my favorite kiss that could have been

and my only kiss that didn't have to be.

Nothing's scarier than knowing the heart is just a muscle
That true love doens't exist in the body
And it was foolish to give you the essence of my being and to
Expect you to pay me back with anything less than your own heart
This is where trust gets me?
I've never felt more solitary in my life
Why spill my guts if you're just gonna eat em?
Enjoy the fact you're an animal
A cannibal
A mother-******* monster
Tear me to shreds
I dare you
You've got what it takes
I never thought you'd do it
**** me now and get it over with
Play me like a game
Ditch me like a body
You'll be the one to blame
You're the one being naughty
Run and tell them all what you did
Confess, repent, repeat
It won't bring back to life that twisted, maliced, stone heart

Tongue-polished boots stand firm
on broken, shattered crystalled-glass.

With heavy arms,
and with lifted mask,
The Marshal of Bigotry cries his command,
“Persecutors! To the task!”

In maliced march,
and in chilling rhythm,
They goose-step,
arched,
o’er blood split from civil schism.

A camp for him,
A camp for her.
And to them sent,
without law conferred.

With gun to temple,
We are offered a choice,
“Fall fast in line,
and in hate rejoice.”
“Or bear stitched lips,
and suffer silenced voice.”

If truth is stone,
then sharpen your sword.
Put helm to crown,
And place faith
in just accord.

Would you betray a maple for its shade -
deny yourself the cool comfort of dim light,
sweet woodruff and fern, ground ivy,
violet in spring? Columbine refuses
full sun. Your languors burn, blister
and peel with each maliced stroke
of a chainsaw.