dead in my coffin.

Why is it that I'm so intrigued by you,

I have memorized each sparkle in your jaded eyes

I let my walls down, willing to let you through,

and ignored the rapid gunshots towards my hearts demise.


I changed what I wore seven times,

I got high off your cologne that lingers on your sweatshirt.

I synchronized my pulse with each of your hearts chimes,

I put on foundation to lighten the bags heavy with hurt.


I craved each neuron that buzzes in your brain,

I wish I could melt into the crevices of your calloused hand.

Because of you, I can stare into the most thunderous of hurricanes,

and bloom strongly in the strongest of winds, ones I could not normally withstand.


But slowly grains of my soul crumble within those winds and storms,

suddenly I am soaring six feet under the ground.

I hear faint echoes with prayers and mourns,

distant, yet bursting in my ears with indescribable sound.


For now I lay cold,

and the my heart beats reflection of yours has stopped.

Because though I have yet to grow old,

those winds keep this coffin locked.



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