she was tiny and frail but her bones held enough passion to break his soul.
he said, i can tell your trouble.
she rolled her eyes and thought to herself, you have no idea.
enough battle scars and broken windows for such a young heart.
he told her, i can feel your pain in your palpatations,
its a sweet sensation like a sickness the sickness that you love to breathe.

if i breathe in real deep i can remember your dirty sheets and empty coffee cups.
i shouldve never dabbled with your conscience, i wish i wouldve taken note
of your damaged mind and ran home.

i still love you

i pulled my shirt up over my head today to show the world my heart.

heavy

darkness is a home
and
when you date the devil you ashes are heavy.

in an old wicker chair i read from my old journal, posts of how i missed your touch. i sat there in my summer time cut off jean shorts, your t shirt and a dirty pair of sandals.

dont think that i forgot you or
that my heart doesnt remember your cold breath.
dont think my mind falls short to remember your pain.
your the devils angel to me now.