virgin skin of maryland

consider your love being torn apart, only if its worth its downgrading mess.

only if the sadistic hint of the catching moment fires your prey.

where, at the end of this chapter, you only hunt for a deer

that can never face your masked suffering away in the fresh tinted woods.

its your heartbeat. echoing against the cracked wallpaper like distant footsteps.

every shadow a memory, every whisper a threat,

every glance backward a reminder of what you can never reclaim.

can you ever be amazed?

or do you simply bump through the shelves of your mind,

tracing your own distorted reflection,

searching for that invalid quietness behind locked doors

that only lead deeper into the same cold, hollow room?

its just.. so cold, to lead this farther away.