A/N: Another older poem of mine.

Loneliness sleeps in every bed tonight
To toss and tangle with
A few of my darker dreams
In some unexplainable broken euphony

I never knew that tears could taste like blood
My black Sundays never had a god
An intrusive voice in my head
Like phantoms awakened
From your rosy cheeks.
Carve my mirrors from ivy:
Defeat has never felt like this.

If I be alone with this
Tell me my ghostly erotica is wrong
Show some sort of dominance
Through cement walls,
And I shall lay awake tonight
While loneliness grinds
And rides my hips
Stirs dried pink roses in my bed