sometimes i’m a void full of self destruction, sometimes i’m nothing but a shadow. the stars weep with me and black butterflies carry pieces of my soul across crimson poppy fields, love works like opium, sedating me as i try to find myself somewhere in the darkness of your light, between reality and where the moon bleeds as death walks with me through silent thunderstorms in summer. a second. or three. pass. are you still by the lake searching for frogs? it’s getting late. there’s nowhere to go but here. nowhere to run or to hide but here. white moths dance in silver moonlight with me, the nightingale sings of sadness and failed lovers, do you really love me? or is it all just in my head.