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She wanted love. So I fed her, inch by inch.

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Summer looks the same. But last summer she loved me.
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She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
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I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.
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Her memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.
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Overcoming guilt, its the first step to doing it again.
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We are only beautiful monsters, dreaming of god.
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She was simple. Like a poem, and always dressed in sunshine.
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Romance is a dream. I can get better shit at the liquor store.
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Failures often become art. And art can never fail.
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I’m wrong but I’m real.
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It wasn’t forever. But I loved her until I hated her.
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Forever Hate Love Myself
I hated you. and you hated me. But we called it love.
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She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.
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She was a broken sky, where stars never shine and butterflies die.
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She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.
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