You can kiss me in the rain and send signals to my pain
Stroke my smoke-carved lungs and take away the discomfort
God; I don't even know your name...

You are angel-clad
Black-haired mystery
Washed in salt, oil and grease
and the occasional rub of alcohol.

Can you still hold me?
Sell me hope?

I just want to know:
If I pray loud enough, can you hear me?
Do you know how badly I need you to show up and come where you should be...?

Angel, baby, mystery:
It gets so cold at night
The wringing-out sensation of my black heart has become too fraught with cancer
Too secluded from nature
To know the truth of women, men, people; I am bereft, star-lost, coupled with misery
This beauty I own is painted in licks of black and red
clashing eternally, battling on, begging for a release.

If only I had, had, had
If only I had, had, had
It's always about needing // never about getting
Because we don't know what we have until it's gone.