Hope
© 2003 Black Tangled Heart
You can hear my agony - it screams to you
Falling upon the deaf, tactless ears of many
You're different (strange tongue
A tangled silvery web of sickness
Unbridled fervour saturating everything you touch)
My torment is tangible
It shatters you like fragments of broken glass
(your fingers are bloodied as you pick up the pieces)
You hold me as a lover; your hands do not leave bruises or half-moon cuts
On my skin - to you, I am porcelain
(I am fragile
you've exposed the ugly innards of my venomous regret)
I don't want you to find shame in my eyes
I only wish that you tasted the bitterness of dispassion in my kisses
There are dried tears on my cheeks,
scars from so long ago
They are fresh to you; you see the red smears and rub them
Clean from my skin
(A pale, smooth nothing)
I don't want to wake up inside your arms; I don't want to become
A victim of love - it will crush the apathy I am known for, the indifference
I take pride in
Why must you see the pain on my face?
My hands are shaking - tears have been buried for so long
They are returning, invoked by
Your presence, your passion, your pain
As the flood of oppression cascades across a face
that has always been indifferent
you do not speak harsh words or lift my chin with your hands
Instead we lie, a jumble of thighs and elbows
Lungs constricted by the curling, hissing serpent of guilt
In our apathy and fervour we cry
In hopes of a dreamless sleep
A/N: This is for Dia. I'm working on your present, love, but I fear it won't be finished in time. I hope this will suffice for now!
© 2003 Black Tangled Heart
You can hear my agony - it screams to you
Falling upon the deaf, tactless ears of many
You're different (strange tongue
A tangled silvery web of sickness
Unbridled fervour saturating everything you touch)
My torment is tangible
It shatters you like fragments of broken glass
(your fingers are bloodied as you pick up the pieces)
You hold me as a lover; your hands do not leave bruises or half-moon cuts
On my skin - to you, I am porcelain
(I am fragile
you've exposed the ugly innards of my venomous regret)
I don't want you to find shame in my eyes
I only wish that you tasted the bitterness of dispassion in my kisses
There are dried tears on my cheeks,
scars from so long ago
They are fresh to you; you see the red smears and rub them
Clean from my skin
(A pale, smooth nothing)
I don't want to wake up inside your arms; I don't want to become
A victim of love - it will crush the apathy I am known for, the indifference
I take pride in
Why must you see the pain on my face?
My hands are shaking - tears have been buried for so long
They are returning, invoked by
Your presence, your passion, your pain
As the flood of oppression cascades across a face
that has always been indifferent
you do not speak harsh words or lift my chin with your hands
Instead we lie, a jumble of thighs and elbows
Lungs constricted by the curling, hissing serpent of guilt
In our apathy and fervour we cry
In hopes of a dreamless sleep
A/N: This is for Dia. I'm working on your present, love, but I fear it won't be finished in time. I hope this will suffice for now!