In that moment, hell may have ascended, Or heaven may have descended only to save me and prove, What I carry is an exaggerated memory of an imagined beautiful love. This love is tainted with treachery; it will be my doom.
I pour blood on my naiveté, your apathy, and your betrayal tonight.
You don't fade from within my mind; it's a flaw That I dwell on each moment, cling to you Like smoke escaping my fingers while the candles burn them raw
And what part of me will begin To forget you first; the sudden Pains that shoot to my bruised palms As I think of you in the cover of the dark, Or the invisible hand Clutching at my heart, as it knocks against its savage cage, Or my still swollen lip...
Your silences remain; they are your biggest mask.
Vanity remains a feeble weapon The delusional wearer of it considers herself strong
And then there was the way you cast your gaze, A coldness so chilling that it could cause a fire.
