Voice dripping sweet like honey,
pretty words that hit hard like waves
that bury melancholy deep within the sand
disguising the impurities of time.
Heart bruised and torn,
awaiting a replacement
or stitches of protection
to mend the callous that defines life.
A lifeboat of seafoam blue,
faraway in the city that never sleeps.
Only connected by the strings of automation
and words exchanged deep within the stars of midnight.
Spoken from the heart,
ashes of the past slowly melt,
from ice to water,
drawn out of the dirt of a self-dug grave.
