Our hearts danced together,
in a prolonged illusion I almost dared call peace.
The mystical sensation of your hand lingering,
touching my fingers, stroking my pride--
I almost died in a wave of perfect harmony.
Then I died worse than before,
in a place hearse, a demonic wave--
I was your beautiful plaything,
nothing to the very end.
Tears and fears tossed outside,
left only misery and a symptomatic ache,
that only a breakdown could describe.
We were supposed to have a beautiful ending,
with white icing cake, gold rings and family blessings.
The coroner in the corner targeted my soul,
when he turned to you and proposed,
"Let's destroy her, let's destroy her whole."
What a beautiful way to die inside,
when you know nothing lasts forever.
The sentiment of you and I, a happily never after--
one lie after another, told to quivering figure.
Sew me back up together, you're a great dress maker,
address my problem; what is it I do, to deserve this?
Make me a masquerade so I can see blood and chaos,
so the heavens died when my eyes closed shut,
never to open again to devotion or love.
It was a tragedy, no it was a beautiful remorse,
all dressed up in it's Sunday best, a banquet of hurt.
Maybe somebody can once again capture me,
but I doubt it much, I suspect a divine treason.
What a charismatic smile you sell on the doorstep,
to my heart of course, but I am not fooled,
I've seen all the flashy smiles and fluttering eyelashes before.
I can hear the sound of Celine Dion screaming memories,
that you helped me make once and now would elude to forget.
Such delicacy found between us, when we kissed and held eachother,
late night talks never were my thing, though you soled them me perfect.
I tried a little something special, a remedy to my shattering soul,
a subconscious little sarcastic joke; 'It's never over, til it's totally gone."
What a foolish girl, I write on and on with a pained expression,
with the tears that sting my porcelain cheeks etching atrocities across my face,
I loved and lost, I lost my love and now nothing can take his place.
That's my fault, I should've done more, perhaps I shouldn't have done so much,
a classic game of blame and self abuse, let me drive this scapel into your brain.
What a messed up head, the audience screams behind a painted veil,
with rosemary scented candles to calm my spirit, bastard past,
why will you not dwell in endless sleep, where you cannot haunt me?
I'll move on when the phoenix's lament has ceased to ring out loud,
where my heart will be charred, perished like our past image.
Nostalga stained fantasies, of our lips slightly parted in an embrace,
a solemn vow expressed through loves sacred pledge of you and me--
lets just forget now, let me soar in dream-like memoirs where I can be,
at least for some time, out of this world, in a place I want to be.
You just tore a divine meaning to my life, to our hearts--just by the words,
that you swore you'd never utter under any pretence; we cannot be together.
Gold trophy winner
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