i recall fearing about when a girl would soon capture you're heart.so that i couldn't reach it ever again.it was so difficult to not tell you that."should i tell him?"i constantly asked myself everyday i was dropped back home.it clouded my head like fog on a street.just everywhere.until you spoke to me about it.and how ,"that's never going to happen."
from that moment forward,things were going smoothly.it was like a fairytale.you treated me like a princess,and you were my prince.to me it was magical.but little did i know how wicked things would turn out.not every fairytale end beautifully.
"lies"i remember the first lie you told me.and of course it included a girl i loathed the most.you touched her in ways,that i wanted you to touch me.yet you saw me as innocently cute.nothing more.i especially remember after you pleaded saying you regretted it.how i told you:"if you want to even touch me,sanitize your whole body."i dislike the thought of the hands you used to touch her,touching me.
Take a hold nowOn the silver handles here,Six silver handles,One for each of his old pals.Take holdAnd lift him down the stairs.Put him on the rollersOver the floor of the hearse.Take him on the last haul,To the cold straight house.The level even house,To the last house of all.The dead say nothingAnd the dead know muchAnd the dead hold under their tonguesA locked-up story.
I am not the black cat.There were four of us;my grandmother,a black cat,a myth,and I.My grandmother oftentold us a myth.When you are ill, she said,if a black catcomes and sits on your bedit means that youwill die soon.I was only six,seriously ill.Our black cat
He wakes, who never thought to wake again,Who held the end was Death. He opens eyesSlowly, to one long livid oozing plainClosed down by the strange eyeless heavens. He lies;And waits; and once in timeless sick surmiseThrough the dead air heaves up an unknown hand,Like a dry branch. No life is in that land,Himself not lives, but is a thing that cries;An unmeaning point upon the mud; a speckOf moveless horror; an Immortal OneCleansed of the world, sentient and dead; a flyFast-stuck in grey sweat on a corpse's neck.I thought when love for you died, I should die.It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.