Come on now, take my hand, kindly come with me.

Entrust your heart and all you are to my secrecy.

You hand me your heart, mind and soul, and I shall give you naught.

In exchange, I will leave you tattered, broken, tearful and distraught.

Don’t try to tear yourself away, for you know it is in vain.

You know you’d rather stay here, my dear, and simply endure this pain.

Because what you are losing to the world, I selfishly hold tight.

But your love and care mean nothing to me, I know that it’s alright.

For you see, I’ve got it down to a science, years of trial and error.

You’re merely another trial, child, a simple change in weather.

For when you are finally washed up, and those tears turn to vapor,

I will vanish like the wind, skedaddle, scram, see you later.

I wonder if you’ll ever see through this veil, I’ve so long wore.

Lest I treat you like the other hearts, I’ve worn down and tore.

It really matters not, for surely you already know.

When you decide you’re gone, it’s one down, billions to go.

How do you think I’m so good at it, this love game of mine?

I’ve distilled, perfected, and fine tuned this craft with time.

Of course I’ll come back to you, when all seems to be astray.

But the very next day, the same deal, I will push you away.

I’ve got you on a string, and dear God, it was so easy.

You are my toy, my little play thing, something to amuse me.

I’ll let you fall and hit that bump, and you’ll come right back. 

All the while, this string I’ve kept you on, remains dutifully intact.

Surely you hold on, for the knot you tied is so secure.

And surely I will corrupt thee, so angelic, so pure.

Because I am what you call a “bad boy,” and I am your type.

I am the boy you dream of, and call late at night.

I’m keeping you from someone who deserves you, with absolute ease.

I’ll show you what they would shower with, almost like a tease.

For the second you smile, and the second you grin.

I’ll merely yank that string, and you’ll rebound again.

It’s as simple as walking a dog, at least for me it is.

The second you saw me, and I saw you, Ding, it begins.

The cycle I’ve crafted, the designed I’ve mastered.

It’s not your heart or mind, but pants that I’m after.

Sure you won’t see it, for I’ll never let you know.

But it takes a fool to continue to watch my show.

You must be foolish, and you must know by now.

That I’m only letting you give me, what I allow.

I am the mastermind behind this plan, the perfect heist.

I will pull this off with eerie precision, a sniper poltergeist.

You’ll never see it coming! Or perhaps you will..

But does it even matter? It’s my life you’ll fulfill.

You know all I’m going to do it hurt you, at least thats the jest.

You’ll learn to enjoy the pain, and strive, emotional masochist.

Can you feel my grip on your heart? Can you feel my hands?

You know that you are mine now, give into my demands.

Turn your back on your friends, the one’s who been there.

The one’s who don’t want to see you hurt, the one’s that care.

You’re mine plain in simple, and mine and mine alone.

I’ll take your open heart, harden it, turn it to stone.

For when you are done with me, I’ll have you hooked.

The next “bad boy” that comes along, will read you like a book.

The “good guy” you deserve, sit’s back in pain.

Not because he is hurt, you’re just sullying your name.

For you see I am the wolf in sheep’s clothing, and you are prey.

Day in, and day out, in the pasture you shall stay.

For when I am hungry, I will once more hold out my hand.

For you are my dinner my dear, poor, defenseless, lamb.

I wrote this for all of the “good guys” like myself out there who see the world for what it is. This is what we know goes on in their minds, but what can we do to stop it? Words are not enough, and the barriers are too strong for us to break. We can only stand back and shake our heads, as all the angels on the planet succumb to the treacherous.

If I could capture every star that fell, to weave a necklace of the galaxies..
I would make a nebula out of your tears, to show you the sight of your beauty..
The comets and moons would becomes the streaks of your pasts..
The cold ice of space would be the void into which your emptiness could disappear.
I would drain the light from the suns, so your smile would have no contenders.
And we would view the sky as an objective already reached.

If I could take the planets, and align them in a smile.
We could view the elipse from above, just so I could see you laugh.
But I would spare Pluto, it’s already been through enough.
Yet.. I would take the sphere of ice and make a barret.
A hairpiece that shines like no other in the universe.

I would rearrange the stars in the distance and form them into a poem.
And the poem would read:
“The stars hold not a candle to you, their beauty could not compare.
The planets revolve around you, because you are my core.
Time and eras, decades and eons, would all pass us in the air.
I would falter not in my love for you, neither after nor before.”
And forever would the asteroids light up the skies ablaze.
Into the rocks, we would etch our names.
Only to have the sand melt into glass.

The glass would immortalize our feelings for each other,
For the next lives that inhabit our worlds..
But until that day comes when someone will carve our bodies from the diamonds..
I’ll hold your hands, while we gaze off into the sunset.

Yesterday was just one of those days in which you have to experience to believe.

I watched from inside of my box as the birds took flight from between the trees.

Yes it was one of those days in which I never wanted to experience to believe.

It was hard to even take a breath, choking in vain, drowning quickly in streams.

The birds are so selfish, or maybe it’s selfish to myself, for what they took from me.

Those massive winged animals took the voice, the beauty, and the symphony.

I could do nothing but watch them fly, while I was frozen in disbelief.

I sat cooped inside this shell, while the electricity drifted by in the streets.

I dried the streams but still I fell, in shambles to my knees.

There was nothing I could do, but watch them fly, in this gut-wrenching ocasi.

I pinched and pulled, and tugged and yanked, but these feelings weren’t dreams.

But watching them fly wasn’t the worst.. Or so it would have seemed.

It’s weird trying to feel for my heart, for I still cannot feel a beat.

My heart was given to the one I love, but now all I do is grieve.

Not because I’m afraid, nor is it because I am naive.

It’s because my favorite song is gone.. My favorite song took leave.

Sitting here I wonder, though the notion is still pretty hard to conceive.

Of what to do until that day.. What to do until that eve.

Through this hole near my heart, through this hole harsh sounds leave.

I’ll keep on fretting until the day, my voice and fingers weave.

But what do I do? When on the inside, at myself, I feel a constant peeve.

To what I did those few years back, to what angel did I leave?

I don’t deserve my song, nor do I deserve the relief.

That comes from what the birds took, when the birds took my symphony.

I’ll fight to be perfect, though perfection is an illusion in the scheme.

I’m at a disadvantage, but only because I don’t see what I believe.

It’s like I’m hiding myself, by myself, covering my thoughts in a sleeve.

All because the voice of a goddess, is still hard to believe.

I’m at the point where I’m lost in the flowers of the sun, the leaves of the trees.

I’m sprinting through the pollen, and bees, trying to find what I need to retrieve.

Those tiny little specks I know.. Their multi-colored gleams..

The way my face is made residence by these things..

The low orange that emcompasses the black, seeing all things to be seen.

The way the black strings, although I hate it, carry the darkness down her cheeks.

My frigid temperatures that no longer exist.. I miss the sub zero degrees.

The way the warm air kissed my neck, leaving rises on my sleeves.

The feeling of satisfaction, knowing that I can, and will, make it believe.

That angels have a place on earth, an angel has a place with me.

Inside of the heat, inside the arms, wrapped dutifully in the extremities.

Is a place where heat meets soul, and cold meets flesh, in gracious amenities.

Now that I think, that I’m currently at, that point where I’m following me.

To where my soul resides just outside of arms length, following my body.

I see things twice, because I’m confused of all the uncertainty.

But I’m starting to realize that what has happened is no longer reality.

Time, I hope you are listening, have ears to listen to my plea.

Take what I’ve done, take my pain, please set me free.

For it’s not my mind that is holding me back from thee.

It’s my heart that is healing only because the song bandaged me.

The copper is beginning to wear away, only a matter of time before we see.

Just how long this bond will continue, before the metal gives release.

If that is the case, then I will keep the chains where still somewhere on me.

But repair the bond that linking the metal, to the right side, the stronger side of me.

My dreams are no longer movies, for movies have to come to an end eventually.

My dreams are now like time itself, moving through life infinitely.

Do I wish to be selifish and sing the name? Of course I would.. Of course.. Certainly.

But would I rather give the song a new sheet? Of course I would.. Of course.. Definitely.

It’s an amazing piece of music, able to write itself, and edit it’s music sheets.

It’s an amazing song of heaven.. An amazing song of you.. And of me.

My sonata will be written, and my sonata will be beyond belief.

But only because I asked you to write.. And keep me in.. Selfishly.

The song that I sing every night, the song I commited to memory.

It’s the only song I’ll ever sing, for forever my angel is with me.

I hope the symphony can play out as planned, I hope it plays without grief.

Because behind the sheet music holding the papers.. Is not a stand.. But it’s me.

It’s lost. Fleeting. My inspiration is as the winds that come to comfort then leave.
The shade that cools the skin, before escaping from behind the tress.
It’s the feeling I get when I look to the left.
Because all that’s left, isn’t what’s right.

Coming and going. My mind is a boomerang, which flies through still’ air.
The wood rotting as in intervals, breaking apart at the paint and seams.
My words are as the wind, drifting through the sky, drifting without a care.
They are the forgetful moment’s in the morning, and darkness in my dreams.

It is the batteries dying in the middle of the road, when help is what you need.
It’s the satisfaction that vanishes instantly, when can’t believe what you’ve seen.
The moments that pass with no regrets, because there was nothing there to lose.
It’s the pen you’ve anxiously wanted to write with, but lost before you could use.

Pain after a cut.
The sweat after a run.
The dawn in the morning.
The night that hasn’t begun.

It’s what is there, but at the same time, as apparent as the air.
It’s the time you realize, that no one out there cares.
Just shrug and move on, because in the end you’re just going to die.
Holding on to inspiration is a waste of time, so there’s no need to try.

Tomorrow will come.
Whether I write these words or not.
I wanted to write something else.
But the subject I forgot.

Laugh at my indulgence.
Poke fun at my sorrow.
Just glance over my words.
Go on with your tomorrow.

And no, it’s not that I’m sad, nor does it matter to any of you.
I’m merely recollecting, on the things that I had thought.
The things that went through my mind, when neither of you knew.
When depression wracked through me, and left my mind distraught.

So.. it’s a common belief that an elephant never forgets anything it experiences,
Regardless of whether or not the past had been too harsh to the creatures.
When it comes to the realization that one cannot fix the past if they wanted,
It becomes dreadfully apparent the worst of our lives are often the greatest teachers.

Caught in between the electrical impulses of the brain are what makes us, us,
Every connection bridged by the nerves, is a new part of our mental form.
But what would one do to stop some of the synapses from happening,
What would one do when given the choice to continue, or to be reborn?

ana-elisse:

I smothered the autumn leaves
Under the heavy foot of my dreams
Kept the pieces in my shoe
Reminding myself
Every time I walked
I was treading on something just as fragile as my future.