Hatememorestil• Show poetry

The pain passes, but the beauty remains.
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We can't all be martyred in the winter of our discontent.
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If I had a rose for every time I thought of you, I'd walk in a garden forever
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Guinevere had green eyes like yours, my lady, like yours
when she'd walk down through the garden in the morning after it rained.
Peacocks wandered aimlessly underneath an orange tree.
Why can't she see me?

Guinevere drew pentagrams like yours, my lady, like yours
late at night when she thought that noone was watching at all on the wall.
She shall be free.

As she tones her gaze down the slope to the harbor where I lay,
anchored for the day.

Guinevere had golden hair like yours, my lady, like yours
streaming out when we'd ride through the warm wind down by the bay
yesterday.

Seagulls circling endlessly, I sing in silent harmony.
She shall be free.

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As the sun warms your face, Remember that she can't feel it

She describes apathy as shallow breathing and closed eyes
a tangent of her former self, she will never relinquish her memories.
A wanderer of sorts, with beaten childhoods and abandoned ponds
these are the phrases she embraces, her sobering tales.

She uses her smashed and jagged halo to open her skin;
his infectious words inhabit her to this day.
But what fell from her atrophied hands,
were all those relentless lies and "I'm sorry"s that will never do.

Here in this disintegrating bed, she holds her dreams that eat her alive;
She hopes to be martyred, but the heavens will turn her down.
She begs for her own funeral, those white flowers because she lost her color
beauty left her bruised around the edges

They've all seen her scars, they know she's destined for a noose;
but she's run them into the ground, they've lost their sympathy.
She knows her time is up, she often wonders what people smile for;
her 9 lives have drained, but she's still not dead and she doesn't see the justice.

With the audience leaving faster than she can say her lines,
she breaks down her sets and puts the show on hold.
Shes faked her whole life of iridescent glowing,
she knows shes dull and lifeless, but no one wants to love that.

She knows loneliness, and why he cursed her like this;
though she can't hold it against him, she wonders if it had to be so brutal.
The days seem to be so brutal, so caught in the making of promises...
she knows, the only promises that matter are the ones that fall through.
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Tell me a story
I'll sing you a song

Tell me a secret
String me along

Tell me you love me
As if we belong

Tell me forever
Just play along

Tell me a story
I'll sing you a song

Tell me you love me
As if I belong
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No one's to blame: This love is dead

Weeping with his arms around someone else
her love departed wordlessly
They stand apart as
the dark serpentine of the river
divides two hearts
rocks smashing their shore
bruised and broken
But he will walk away
with a light step
While
She'd cry and fall asleep in his clothes
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Just as quickly as you wanted to hold me
You pushed me away
Just as simply as we naturally fell
Into one another's arms,
Like a pair of bookends:
One volume of erotic prose at the center
A shelf was leveled with the sound of the telephone.
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with all i've been through i must say
i never thought i could add your name to that list
of those who vanished, cruel-hearted one
my love may linger in vessels blue with blood
running backwards into chambers filled with cold
whose cells all cry for you-
for a heart misunderstood
no more warmth here than cold, hard wood
roughened with splinters, jagged edges
nails pounded through at wrong angels
out the other side with the intent to harm
no love lost for you, only love gained
for me, a pill or twelve to numb the pain
your fear of hurting me a filter for your escape
say it enough times, you may believe it
and absolve yourself
say you did it for a far nobler reason
and watch me kick back another shot
because you left
and that's all i've got
for love was never love
if you lied
and if you loved me,
you would stay

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