Picture (some werid poem I wrote for Robert Smith.....-prays he dosnt read this-)

When the world grows cold, turn to ash on your side. When I look into your eyes...its black. Yet, I am not alone. I hold close a picture of you..wishing I had said the right words....wishing I could admit love. Whising I had you, wishing you where near...wishing you could be right here. Sometimes I want the sun to never rise...so I can never wake up and so you cant leave my side. Feelings I feel I kept locked up inside. Love eating away at my soul....burning tears in my eyes. At lest I have a picture... a picture of you.