~Hypnotising/ Magnetising/ Mesmerising-- so so Endless: you~

Does this mean I fell back down, or could we prentend I'm still as proud..?

Don't you ever wish we could stop this war..?
Oh what am I even saying, I'm such a fool, amore!
We could never stop, we could never even take a break!
Just perpetually send each other pretty little gifts that explode when you bring them too close to your heart...

You say I'm pretty in black,
      Oh honey, ain't I just..?

I think you're shockingly handsome in everything, darling,
Especially with that little burning bullet in between your teeth...
Especially when you look at me like that with your eyes of grey mist on an abandoned beach where the cold cold waves touch my feet sending shivers down my spine as if the water knows that your cold eyes are meant to electrify me and burn burn burn my mind from inside sending shockwaves into my pretty pale fingers as my hands shake towards your face and the last thing I do//
The last thing I do, honey,

            Is lay my icicle fingers onto your pitch black lips...
Oh yes,
The last thing I do before it all goes dark and only the static constant silence like the mundane noise at the other end of the burnt out TV comes to bring harmony into my little self prescribed asylum is reach my fingers to your lips, to my favourite bitter bitter piece of coal carved into perfection, made of marble straight form Carrara...
Hey darling, do you know why I reached for your lips..?

They are, of course, one of my favourite targets,
Did I tell you..?
(I guess it's now or never...)
I wished to be a cigarette you burn between your teeth,
Oh honey,
How pathetic,
I am no match to your war...
But do not flatter yourself too much now,
my Pyro boy,
That may lead you to lose your grip...
The oh so cold tips of my pale pale fingers are filled with your very favourite arsenic...
Don't tell me you did not expect a little tragedy from my last little gesture!

So love, it's about time that I asked:
Are my metaphors too long..?
You've always said you were the one for complicated writing, but perhaps there is an end to all patience...
(But honey, you take my heart and you drag it out and melt it and turn it into a long long string as thin as the trace of dust in sunlight,
/Just thin enough for you to SNAP
my darling little cuore into two and not even blink when you do so.. And that's where this alphabetic vomit comes from,,, just the perfect amount of words to keep up with the length of my little cuore in between your not-so-kind fingers..)

----

Remember how I looked at your burning eyes and said "from now on we're during a revolution"?

Oh you loved me then, didn't you..?

I know you did, darling, because you took my hands and kissed my fingers and you laughed and coal and cigarette ash fell out of your lips and onto my pale pale hands...
(I'm all black now too, just look at what you've done...)

You know, amore, you were right, I can be silly at times,
Running around, pretending like I can play with fire and not get burnt, hiding the red red marks on my ash stained skin where I came too close to the flame within your chest,
Hiding hiding hiding the damage...

You know, I learnt that from you, amore,
To never ever show the blood...

I spoke about getting out,
I spoke about fighting and Trojan horses and those pretty little boxes that fill your skin with shrapnel if you pull it too close to your heart,
I said how we're always a fight,
Never a waltz,
Just a perpetual tango at the tip of the blade with our nails under our skin and our guns at our soulmate's temple...
Did you know, even the roses you throw at my stage wrap themselves around my ankles and keep me close close close to you with their not so pretty thorns...

So darling,
I have come to you tonight to complain...
My revolution isn't working,
Do you hear that, amore..?
It just isn't working...
You see, I wanted to exile a certain pair of burning cigarette coloured eyes from my mind,
But instead, they overthrew my senses and took over my heart...
So yeah, honey,
I've come to complain and ask for help...
Because those vile things infected everything until my very bones,
They turned my pastel blue blood viscid and scarlet and made my white white hands all black...
They raised a riot in my chest and sent me to war with a very pretty face...
Do you know that face, darling?
It's quite very pretty, you know...
All that aristocratic nose and a jawline sharp enough to cut my gentle little fingers when I trace the black charcoal outline that the artist, who must've sculpted the face somewhere near Venice, didn't quite get rid of...
And then, when little droplets of my hot red blood start falling down down down,
They crash into the ash ash ash skin and fall off to the ground as world's most beautiful flakes...
You know, when the red red droplets meet the ground, they create a scarlet constellation and they crash into a million stars...
(Just like your love crashes into a million pieces of shrapnel all over my soft soft shoulders...)
Oh yes, your, oh pardon me, I mean their face is, as I've said, quite very pretty (quite very destructive too, I must say, but that's what makes it truly addicting...)
But I have gotten off topic, darling...
You- r- sorry, sorry.. Those eyes and their bloody revolution...
Yes...
So honey,
I have come to ask you for a favour...
You see, those vile vile eyes have overthrown my senses an gotten into my heart...
Do you mind helping them settle in..?