pretty little liar.

the night you knew
our lives would never
be the same,
the sun grew weary
of circling all my
hard-earned
skyscrapers.
i used to wear
my crown,
the king of the moon.
one by one,
the walls fall down,
in this, my dying room.
fate has stepped in,
my patience has stepped out.
i've counted your worth,
i can't help but doubt
these four walls again.

in a place where a
simple question
requires impossibilities
to explain,
we were born again.
tell me, the sun,
what are you here for?
you tell the world to close
their eyes, but ask so
readily for me to
keep mine open.
wide open, and never.
it's difficult, letting you down.
knowing it's all my fault
you're not around.

i've dug my hole
deep enough
without having
to shout praises
at you.
about you.
for you.

maybe you're watching
the wrong criminal;
looking for the wrong
crime.


in the silence,
i hear your beating heart
and wonder what it
beats for,
what excites the bugs
in your stomach,
and what fallacies
keep you awake at night.
if you doubt that i'll be there,
don't you dare.
the worm becomes a
butterfly,
but the worm is
born again.
i need a break
from stern discussion
and involuntary sin.



it didn't take long
for me to lose the trust.
these four walls were not strong enough.


the words, so radical,
and not what i meant.
we are not the same.