Crashing

Everything changes or stays the same depending on the perception.

The epileptic fits blurring lines between fantasy and actuality.
The warmth in a lie is peaceful when you believe it, but it was cold to the touch finding myself back at the beginning.


Begging for scraps when deserving no limits.

I tango with my heart strings, tying them to the wall furthest from you.

My heart was true, but foolish;
wrapping it's entirety up in your deceit

believing it's safety was in your arms, head pressed against your chest,

heartbreak is silent but leaves it's passion on your lips.

Whispering it's something to nothing,
 the lyrics on repeat.

I still love to hate the sound of our defeat.

Love is death

taking our hearts to crash to the floor on bended knees.