One,
Two...

White machines and silver wires keep me sewn...
Beeping noises and stolen seconds make my stomach...

It's your secret kiss that leads me to my grave,
Its your secret way of making me feel safe...

I feel tears on my skin,
I feel that person close...

Glowing color in her eyes,
No time for the wheres and whys...

The knife was there,
tempting fate...

Touch my hand, Touch my lips
I'm dying with each thouch from your fingertips...

As slowly as I walk,
Haunting dreams I feel...

Let's Talk
Simple as it stands this poem is about lost love...

Touch my cold lips,
Hold my hand...

As I sit alone in a cafe,
Waiting for your call...

This little angel will die,
This little angel who must not cry...