Your laugh has pried itself under my skin,
Your eyes have mesmerized my very heart,
Your voice makes my knees weak and my head spin;
My home is where your long arms start.

I flew much too high under the harsh sun, ignorant of the warnings of my inevitable demise.
We only achieve what we allow ourselves to,
and we are only who we are because of what we make ourselves.

The butterflies have long since died,
Make-up containers cracked and dried.
You are still my World, my Hope, my Love.
I will always be here, always waiting,
But I, my Love, I will never be enough.

Everything inside is screaming,
With open wounds that ooze,
Maggots feeding and teeming,
Her pallor gray and bruised.

This is how she feels inside,
With no relief in sight.
So she smiles wide, she smiles bright,
And screams into the night.