Stars For Scars
I'd sacrifice darkness and sever the night,
To feel your twisted touch and your cruel embrace.
Even as you impaled my heart with tragic, black hate,
I would have kissed despising lips and caressed cruelty's face.
Though grave thoughts danced with pain in my head,
I'd still force faith to believe the lies that you've said.
Blind love is a plague to a conceited sadist explaining death.
Her heart's despair expressed necromancy in embracing how she bled.
She was your goddess of blue, velvet tears, looking into the eyes of tragedy.
She was your morbid masochist, living for wishes, to bathe in your lust.
She was your vampiric mistress, denying fate to kiss the hand of dark deceit.
She was your enigma, living lies. She was I and I was blind.
Masochist to please you and perfect said your words,
But perfection's decay was aided by the maggots of silence and lust.
From realization came mutilation, yielding rusted trust.
Simple dreams were thrown to wasted wishes in one unexpected thrust.
Your sins were given praise by my quick and shallow demise.
Your ego swelled from idolizing eyes and appreciated lies.
She offered an eternity. You took, from her, eyes blinded by stars.
Time may heal gaping, aching, festering wounds, but it always leaves it's scars.