Been a while since these words,
these words came tumbling out.
Simple aching makes me hold my tongue,
but I'm dying just to shout.
Do you see it reader?
The makeup makes my eyes?
Can you see it, lover?
Those unwanted tears I cry?
Little pauses for analyzing,
line by line and row by row.
Your scrutiny, my darling,
seems to be all that I know.
They say there's beauty in the breakdown,
but there's no art hidden in this mess.
December's got dark wings, you see,
containing things I won't confess.
Can you hear the blood, now pounding?
It's rushing all around.
Quicksilver rivers swiftly sliding,
deftly making not a single sound.
Simple rushes of adreneline..
let's pump them through my veins.
I've heard there's art in tender beauty...
but there's no beauty in this pain.
