this house is haunted
by the remnants of your tears.
and the stance between us
is frightening and cold.
hungry destruction by the root cause of fear.
the deception was innocent,
footprints between heartache and sickness.
cold desperation
in the fever of the morning.
grasping handfuls of love
and thrusting it into your hands.
lets save this notion that we
are perfect,
for it felt better then realizing
we weren't.