(I can put it back together)
The sickness that is contagious to everyone around me.
The absence of warmth, could never be so full of tenor.
(We'll leave no trace, aside from our ignorant chasity)
The presence of rose, could never be more detestable.
(Each time, every time, God forsakes us a little more)
What makes our eyes slide past one another?
(Relive; he shattered our enchantment, not I)
Death of the heart brings dominance of the mind.
You're suspended above the world; a bitter angel.
It's so ironic; my hands don't feel the pain any longer
But they still can't pick up the pieces.