“I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.” 
― Edgar Allan Poe

You. Me.

darling, we're meant to be.

This is you and me;

we are the word-imprinted pages,

the ink on stained paper, the clicks on the 'board.

(the silent goodnight's).

This is you and me;

we're monochromatic shades,

and society shuns us

(because we're also bloody rainbows).

This is you and me;

you're orange blood on a Saturday morning,

and I'm the dusk of a dead Monday

(God, you know you're beautiful, right).

This is you and me;

we're destructive little poems,

and floaty words we don't understand

(thousands of them).

This is you and me;

we're the eyes on every wall a