Oh sweet love, cruel captor of my heart.
Is it really so tragic, to rip the threads of my skin, the tendrils that consist of my aching bloodied heart, into shreds of nothingness, thrown away as dirty litter to the golden pavements of our ever entwined dreams. Is it really so damn near tragic that I am rendered entirely worthless in your deep, brooding eyes? That you can discard my love, as if it were read, taken, stolen and plaigerised from the back of a cheapandcheerful cereal box on the morning of your life's ultimate test. And ultimate examination, the cruel, awakened bearing of your secret soul. That treasured box of pirate's secret treasure that we, together, for so long, have kept locked away and hidden from the dark and mysterious wonderings of the cruel world. Shall you bear all for all by my sweet and sorrowful self?
Do you really wish to throw me to the cruel, bitter, chill-ridden winds of time and temptation, to fall effortlessly, into the gentle, warming lap of another, far from deserving man of hidden mysteries?
Were my endless and eternal secrets, yours evermore, not enough for the likes of your highly-esteemed, poetic and deeply tragic self?
Do the weak and fluttering movements of my shattered heart really render your own entirely numb and unfeeling towards mine own?
Am I now nothing but a diamond, left to fester, forgotten in your cruel love's rust? Shall our laughter through the night never ring out as anything more than a fickle fancy for a long weekend of your romantic wanderings and desires? Shall I forever be rendered worthless, undeserving and unworthy of your sweet, hot, slick lover's kiss?
Shall our lips never be brushed firmly, quickly past one another's in a passing, freshly minted breathe. As you drink your whisky down, deep into the bell of your eternal musings of Hell's inner chambers, shall I be all but a nothing, a fleeting memory of a love and a lust left wholly, entirely unsatisfied.
Do the four years of an eternal, mumbling, muttering and all consuming crush, the crush of car's metallic bodies, the shattered glass of an innocent girl's broken dreams mean so little to the likes of you, devel child of mine heart, that I am really left alone, here in the harsh light of eternal darkness. Yours, ever more, never more.
I am yours forever, fornever. Never forget sweet Boy Trouble of mine. I shall be yours throughout all eternity whether your sweet, sightless eyes desire such a colourful twist of blood, guts, gore and eternal gain to have and to hold me, clutched tightly in your sweated, steaming palm, or rather twisted in your sodden, blood stained sheets.
Be mine, be my boy, Boy trouble. For, in all honesty, I am yours, ever more, never more...
Is it really so tragic, to rip the threads of my skin, the tendrils that consist of my aching bloodied heart, into shreds of nothingness, thrown away as dirty litter to the golden pavements of our ever entwined dreams. Is it really so damn near tragic that I am rendered entirely worthless in your deep, brooding eyes? That you can discard my love, as if it were read, taken, stolen and plaigerised from the back of a cheapandcheerful cereal box on the morning of your life's ultimate test. And ultimate examination, the cruel, awakened bearing of your secret soul. That treasured box of pirate's secret treasure that we, together, for so long, have kept locked away and hidden from the dark and mysterious wonderings of the cruel world. Shall you bear all for all by my sweet and sorrowful self?
Do you really wish to throw me to the cruel, bitter, chill-ridden winds of time and temptation, to fall effortlessly, into the gentle, warming lap of another, far from deserving man of hidden mysteries?
Were my endless and eternal secrets, yours evermore, not enough for the likes of your highly-esteemed, poetic and deeply tragic self?
Do the weak and fluttering movements of my shattered heart really render your own entirely numb and unfeeling towards mine own?
Am I now nothing but a diamond, left to fester, forgotten in your cruel love's rust? Shall our laughter through the night never ring out as anything more than a fickle fancy for a long weekend of your romantic wanderings and desires? Shall I forever be rendered worthless, undeserving and unworthy of your sweet, hot, slick lover's kiss?
Shall our lips never be brushed firmly, quickly past one another's in a passing, freshly minted breathe. As you drink your whisky down, deep into the bell of your eternal musings of Hell's inner chambers, shall I be all but a nothing, a fleeting memory of a love and a lust left wholly, entirely unsatisfied.
Do the four years of an eternal, mumbling, muttering and all consuming crush, the crush of car's metallic bodies, the shattered glass of an innocent girl's broken dreams mean so little to the likes of you, devel child of mine heart, that I am really left alone, here in the harsh light of eternal darkness. Yours, ever more, never more.
I am yours forever, fornever. Never forget sweet Boy Trouble of mine. I shall be yours throughout all eternity whether your sweet, sightless eyes desire such a colourful twist of blood, guts, gore and eternal gain to have and to hold me, clutched tightly in your sweated, steaming palm, or rather twisted in your sodden, blood stained sheets.
Be mine, be my boy, Boy trouble. For, in all honesty, I am yours, ever more, never more...
