To put fragile words in the place of your analogue soul is a sin,
But to use them to build your skin is another, and...
There are bright streetlights in your steel blue eyes, and...
I can't imagine seeing tears caught in these gold frames,
Yet I know that sometimes they must do...
I'm an obstinate child that you hold to your closed chest,
That encases the only object I've ever... needed to own,
That encases the lungs, where you breathe... heavy as though,
In your broken head, you think you will always be alone, and...
My palms are cold, when I'm holding their clasping hands,
As my heart doesn't beat... quite the way that It does,
When you smile every time that I do the same....and
To pretend I can communicate the way holding broken glass,
Feels beatter than holding onto anything... safe,
...Is a sin, because my fragile words are meaningless to you,
That is... I lose all letters in the shape of your face
and as I feel I'm bleeding... the life away from my mind,
I see my... angel slipping from where I can reach to,
because he's not... an angel at all, and...
As he slips too low for me to stoop to, and...
When all covered in dirt,
I can't stop needing the way his... lying heart speaks...when he's free,
Then... the bright streetlights in his eyes,
Turn me into a shadow... I despise,
Until I'd rather....
....Tear off my own scratched skin....
Than be something he simply no longer wants.