#ih8u

The world hides it's secrets deep in between

But sometimes the trees whisper and share them with me

A comforting warmth, Irish Spring and Nicotine

The months are getting colder and I worry my heart will as well

But it's just a reminder to warm my hands with clay

I shape and shape until it bends and breaks, but someone will come along one day

My heart cries out as it weeps softly

It lays in a pool of warm water

Slowly creeping up further and further

I don't need you to be a Martyr!

But this place is warm and soothing in a way

But the salt in the water stings my paper cuts

Tiny paper cuts from tiny paper hearts that have hurt me before

I accidentally got blood on my Newport

You wanted words about you, I hope they aren't empty

Take the jar from my heart and fill it with warm bath water

Cleanse my soul when you are done, make it pristine