winter.

the trees stretch their arms,

to catch the falling silvery linen

that it becomes from the puffs of dream

settled in the sky..

where stars whisper secrets, and remain forever..

just like if it were you and i.

my heart has grown cold from the rush of winters threats of death.

my hands have grown into clasps of crimson hurt,

only to find when i open them,

your heart isnt there...

the razors of regret have sunk deep into my flesh.

leaving a gorey mess of sorrow everywhere...

god only knows how much you mean to me.

endless paper lines only know what i cant stand.

im writing the same old mess i used to be...

hung in dark clouds of smoke and debris

that you swore to keep me away from..

me hands are tied and i cant breathe.

this isnt how things used to be...