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Last Flowers
It always wilts
You always fall apart
Never cry
Just empty your heart
These flowers are dead
Stuck between two pages
Pressed against her temple
Like a loaded gun, just you
It always leaks through
The blinds and the linoleum
Breaking shadows, with you
Amongst paper cut wounds, you
My drink doesn't taste right
Mixed with something impolite
Burning as it goes, it might
Leave a hopeless hole tonight
This one hole small enough to feel
Tip of the finger, end of a knife
If you want to touch, just don't look
This is how I let go of life
With tiny scratches
Tracing perfect circles
To encase a pretty girl
Swallow the bullet down
