Let's live a lie for today.You’ll spin talesand pretend to love me.And I'll smile; you’ll not realize it’s fakeThen I’ll pretendyour pretensions don’t cause me pain.

And what part of me will beginTo forget you first; the suddenPains that shoot to my bruised palmsAs I think of you in the cover of the dark,Or the invisible handClutching at my heart, as it knocks against its savage cage,Or my still swollen lipsAs they remember the touch of your gentle fingertips?

But only when I hear those knocksAccompanied by that question they all ask,Curious about how you are,Does realization dawn with a jolt,You and I don't talk anymore.

Let storms rageIn the world outside;Fires rise from hellStay, beloved, From here to eternity,Should chaos consume usOr death annihilate us.

Pretension, dear love, does not buy truth into lies, nor alter its course.

No, I don't miss you... Not in a way that one is missed.But I think of you. Sometimes.In the way that one might think of the summer sunshineOn a winter night...

Erupting like fiery autumn leaves between silksas skin meets skinflames that lick everythingand consume all there is.

An ambitious, paradoxical world we live in - of short attention spanspaired with the massive fearof being forgotten too soon.

What ravaged my mind was the thought.The thought of you.

Grief lets you indulge in it, so that it can feed itself.