second sonnet I ever wrote

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when dreams felt like showers of stars
and we beyond ourselves move on ahead.
we count the days and try to hide our scars.
when what is left is better left unsaid.

your to much a angel and I a sin.
to corrupt for friendship so I bleed.
to share the world with what has begin.
to be a poor actor in a good scene.

so last of all to share, to dream, to hope.
a tenderness that pushes me alone
to play with the truth and rely on tropes.
you can drag out the past with lies unknown.

but only we know what is the truth
your friends as fans ready the noose.



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