On her pillow case she whispers secrets that only heaven could hear, but they'll never listen. Under her sheets the bruises and scars tell a story, but no one will ever read it. Her eyes are the window to the world she's never known, but she hopes to find it soon.The space of void in her rib cage is where the butterflies once took shelter, but they've since flown away. Its winter all summer long, and everything dies when its cold, including you.
I find myself flipping through the pages of her heart trying to recapture a literal bookmark of my last smile. Next time I'm feeling complete remind me to dog ear the moment so I can return to it at will.
Warn the conductor to take it easy on the tracks and to hold it steady. This will forever be a Cinderella story. Only at the strike of midnight we all turn back into devils and angels, seeking our weight in gold. Risk your life for their love.
It feels so good here under the gun though... knowing that this is where you're saved. Set the lamp just right to throw my shadow on the wall. Trace it one last time to remember how this looks.
They say that those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it... but what if I was happier in the past. What if we are cursed with the inability to forget how much happier things once were? Condemn me to who I once was and we'll call it even before my face hits the floor.
