2 AM, the only time you break me down so perfectly
until there is nothing uneven running through my veins;
you taste like every tomorrow of my dreams.
And you remind me, again and again, how old you are,
that girls like me and men like you don't share the same bed.
I used to say generations don't matter for we traveled
galaxies together, and though I always knew the distance
back to your heart, I chose to fall down -
now I am of stardust
and I bury my ashes in places you haven't tainted.
I love you, without ever touching those lips.
Those chords that bloom lilies in your lungs,
how I haunt your mosaic dreams of cathedrals
where martyrs and saints dance on pipe organs,
playing harps into the most quiet, tormented minds.
You said, not in this universe.
And I've always wondered, what about others?
Alas, I've hidden away from a future of you,
locking myself inside unholy sanctuaries
where the blood is not of Jesus' but of my own.
Because I've already sacrificed it all for you...
how can I let you still walk on my surface?
I've lost my spark for you.
And somehow, I've forgotten how to ignite my own.