Im sick of time
Waiting for healing to run its course...

*also titled [Un]Perfect
I saw you the other day...

I feel it in the air
slipping away from bedsheets warm...

I am sixteen
I confess, but to all honesty...

Hand written love notes from no one,
are smeared like rose petals...

I let the meat sit out
and rot...

No more sugar coated lies, I love this, I love...
So sick of it, clogging up my space, such...

Hand to my mouth
wanting to grasp at the air...

Theres not enough blank
for you to spill your words...

Waking up to scents,
Of dead roses in the air...