You been telling me he's gone.

I've been telling, he's been here, all along.

You been telling me he's far.

I've been telling, he was never near.

You been telling me he's gonna' hurt you.

I've been telling, it takes two.

You've been telling me you're delusional.

I've been telling, reality is painful.

You've been telling me to stop crying.

I've been telling, smiling isn't helpful.

You've been telling me to release the pain.

I've been telling, that's what 'm doin' I think.

You've been telling me to connect again.

I've been telling, I've no drive, courage, care, headspace.

You've been telling me that you're sold for free.

I've been telling, I've experienced smell of blood,
that's worse than random manipulators like these.

You've been telling, it's not a competition.

I'm laughing--"oh! Okay. It took a while. Good. Gooooooooooodd.

Great. It is finally now you understand that? Huh? Thanks. Anyways."

Dear innocence, you've been pricked.
How you'll come back to she?
Consummation wasn't in your head.
Where's your beauty gone?

Dear un-holiness, she's been dying lately.
How you'll cause her to crawl back?
Purity was the place; your garden thrived.
Where's your sanctity gone?

Dear charisma, she's hopeless for...
How she's ever gonna' face 'em?
Don't ask her "Who?"
Where's her dignity stripped and thrown?

She seem to have seen but one.
Felt mirrored by one.
Heard thoughts of just one!
Doors of hope were open, when...

Oh! But now? What have my darling done?
As if she's not been born a girl; had a 'hood at all.

Dear all, you waited to attack her in unison?

Within a blink, he threw her back into her world--
from where he effortlessly distanced her forever...

Dear petrifaction, you've been received.
Do you wanna' taste dissipation?
You weren't taught so by him, indeed.
Where your rights to nouncin' gone?

"Insatiable," he places it clear.
"Insatiable," she keeps it real.

"But who are you?" it haunts her.
"You ask me, dear?" she barely hears. 

"You've just been death of me!" she fumbles.
"Life...that's all I hear."

"I don't know you. Not at all."
"You will now," he calmly clears.

"Who is it? Who is this?"
Her ears ring, her own, near.

"It's not you, you know dear."
Placing a bouquet, he steps out clear.

"Ah! Wait! My armor!" and he shudders near.
"I'm here. Say..." and she slits off.

And so, he executes, insatiable, troubled ghoul.
"Hold on!" He looks at her, removing his shroud.

She buries alive.
Embracing, covering her.

"Death's nectar is prettier."

Inextinguishable weight of this light, again.

It aches and burns, again.

That's all the Sun has done to me.

It has burned me.

It’s burning again, frivolously, furiously, unstoppably.

Uncontained. One. Chosen, yet hollow again within.

Burning in the Moon's intensity.

And my limbs still ache, without direction.

It was better without knowing.

It was better when it was unfound.

And on that silver cloud,

I know we'll end up,

for your fluctuating cold needs to melt down

and my rising flame needs to calm down.

And I end up wandering, all aching and numb.

Wouldn't it have been much more peaceful

if we had been together all along?

But when has a flame touched its blue,

or the Moon, the Sun?

And so I sit here, all aching and numb,

trying to let go of what is long known now.

But I think, at times,

would it have been much more sane,

much simpler,

if we had seen none, known none.