Numbing the nerve endings in my arms to endure a vain embrace. Exhausted by the light leaving our eyes. Our leap of faith will lead us to a bed of blades. Remove the skin and reveal to me the likeness of a ghost as teardrops find their way towards my throat. Our leap of faith will lead us to a bed of blades, descending from the heaven we created in our heads. We both bleed, but out of separate wounds. Not meant to mend a different breed of broken. Pulling the cure out of the suffering themselves. We are two different breeds of broken. I’d sooner die with the deserted than coexist amidst feigned love. Bringing your hands towards the sky and expecting me to cast myself down.