The lala land

You smile and cry like you have the purest eyes,
Not fascinating:not at all.
Custodial job,insignificant town,
Frames of a broken church,dusty old shelves,
Glass windows,plastic souls,
Silicone faces,paper town,
Sober autumns,russet and brown;
Exhausting static of city lights,faint sounds of children giggling,
Your stoic reflection in sunken maze.
Mannequins cry and melt for your blood.
I smirk;in slow motion ,I planned the perfect plot.
I walked by your side,unnoticed.
For you to unveil cosmos under your sheets; to kiss those unforgotten lips
Awaiting your gaze,the winter came.
Those crystal eyes in thirst for ice,
You were the wolf baying at the moon vigil to a smokescreen sky.
Like the wanderers being carried away by the wind,
In the shades of black and dreadlocks,you invited adventure.
You heard my words like they made you alive,
Losing to my cavernous eyes of dreams and fire,
You walked to the dusky pinks and mustard yellows
Red blue and grey were cliche afterall.
Riding along the coast,eating the sunsets,
Unraveling your secrets in the woods,
Lingering stares and subtle comments,
I nudged you,to fall.
Sometimes into the abyss of my eyes,sometimes in the bed,
Sometimes off the cliff.
I cured you off the mundane,i m beautiful,you say.
But then,they disagreed.
With fetish lies and needles,they painted butterflies and blossoms
On moths and morbidity,i chuckled.
Cant amputate me like a dying limb.
"Schizophrenia"they say,
"I siezed your heart" I say.
Oh the futility of what i am,
Most of my lovers are ghosts themselves;
For I live and love on their souls.
Darling,dare to bleed more,
Under the clearskies and the thunderstorms,
The closer you get,the further i pull away.