Make me your midnight muse.

Think of me when darkness falls, and you're alone. Feel my ghostly touch, like a whisper, a moan.

My breath upon your face, a sigh, a tease. A tender reminder, of the love that seeks release.

Howl your secrets to me, in the quiet of the night, Each word a sacred offering, as my soft figure dances in your sight.

Break me open, like a vessel of clay,
And slip your fingers in, in the softest way.

Make me anew, with each touch, each caress,
Start over again, in love's sweet duress.

Again, Again, and Again.

I was the first to fall in love
But it’s inevitable that you’ll be the first to leave.

My head rested gently upon your shoulder's grace, Amidst the kitchen's warmth, in an intimate embrace.

You spoke of Abramović and Ulay's artful love affair, While I listened, entranced, with a silent prayer.

As the water simmered, poised to reach its peak, I absorbed each word, feigning understanding.

Your gestures, a symphony, as you traced the scene, Fingers dancing,  in a love unseen, an intimate dance just for me.

I pondered, as your touch lingered on mine,
Was our love akin to theirs, a complex design?

Filled with art and impediment, like a tangled thread, Were you showing me their image, with secrets unsaid?

Was it a subtle warning, a silent plea to flee? Or a gentle nudge towards what must be?

As you held me close, your grasp firm and tight, I wondered if our end was nearing, in the dimming light.

Your fingers, reluctant to stray from my skin, A silent testament to the love we'd once been.

Yet even as you checked the stove's steady flame, I sensed the hesitance, the unspoken claim.

For the music played softly, a melancholy tune, Unheard by my ears, yet felt in the room.

Unbeknownst to me, we began a slow dance, The tender steps of a breakup's advance.

So we swayed in silence, to the rhythm of a heart's lament, Each step a farewell, in love's testament.

In the dance of love's end, we found our song, Unraveling slowly, where once we belonged.

You, the shepherd, guiding with gentle hand,
You, the abattoir, where destinies are planned.
You, the quiet, serene in your might,
You, the roaring sea, in the still of the night.

And I, your dulcet lamb, innocent and meek,
Trusting in your guidance, so pure and yet so bleak.
Unaware, I followed, to the slaughter's door,
Where you would claim all, leaving nothing more.

My heart, my soul, the essence of my being,
Strung upon your thread, like a puppet on a stage,
Only to be severed, in love's bitter cage.

As I lay, upon the cold, silent floor, I found solace in knowing, I was no more. For in that cold sweet moment, in the stillness profound, I embraced my fate, upon holy ground.

Watching the crimson from my flesh and bones bathe the floor-like soil welcoming rain after a year of thirst. And now, as my blood mingles with the earth, each drop a prayer of life, in death's quiet mirth.

In the labyrinth of self, I wander alone,
Seeking the essence of who I've known.
Yet she eludes me, in shadows unseen,
And I, a lost soul, where have I been?
Oh, where is she, the one I've known?
And where have I gone, in shadows thrown?

If God's love was true in its purest form and he truly had grace I would not find myself in this place.

Death he follows me wherever I go.
Wether it be in the depths of the forest
Or the deepest of seas death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me in my dreams painted with the face of an angel.
As we dance on the dirt of the earth, death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me into the darkness and covers me with sadness, I tell him I don’t want him while he screams that he loves me death he follows me wherever I go.
He lays next to me as I wake and sings songs of the days to come, death he follows me wherever I go.
He wraps his arms around my body and bores his fingers in my soul, death he follows me wherever I go.
He whispers in my ear when I try to speak and wraps his hands around my throat death he follows me wherever I go.
He lays on top of me as I sleep running his wicked finger down my body death he follows me wherever I go.
He pushed himself into my life and I fell in love with him. Death I follow him wherever he goes.

What is love
Nothing but a myth of the mind
It is the fault of Cupid and his kind
That this love is so hard to find.
It is not within the soul body nor mind
When I hear of Cupid I think of a true mastermind.
We roam the world looking for it without realising we are blind 
He shot us with his ***** arrow and turned us into mankind.