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We have a nice house -
Six bedrooms, three point five bath.
The floors and tables and baby grand piano are shiny
and the throw pillows aren't really thrown.

It's a very nice house -
Lots of earth tones, lots of lamps.
Everything smells like the color burgundy
and the homework has A's on it.

We have a nice house, if you look for a while,
But don't look too long or you'll see -
Some doors are shut tight
And some light bulbs are out
and there's a scratch on the picture of me.
Study the stage, young women
Because the day will come when you fall in love with a boy
                                                             ­  who's in love with you
                                                   but your friend loves him, too.
And let's face it. She deserves him.
So do it for her - channel Dorothy's excitement at the Land of Oz,
                             Hello Dolly's kindly matchmaking.
                             Be the Nurse to her Juliet; keep her secrets.
Only at night allow yourself to lose character.
You can then become Eponine in the rain,
                                       Christine in the depths of the opera house,
                                       Maria watching her world torn apart.
Avoid the boy's gaze if you can, ladies,
Because he knows you're no Dorothy,
                                              no Dolly,
                                              no Nurse.
He knows and you know, but you do it for her.
there are too many love poems.
there are too many poems about how
there are too many love poems,

but we will continue to write them
because there is nothing quite so difficult
to explain without poetry.

we will continue to use words like
gentle   forever   eyes   promising
soft  caresses  aching
awake holding
heart
soul                      
                  body

there are too many love poems
and we will continue to write them
because we have too many words to write
too many love poems.
Love, tell me where the old souls find their rest
Or, better still, that you and I are young
Just scream to me and tell me where you are
Tell me someone out there cares for me, else
Tell me no one will and dispatch the lies

And please, show me how to be whom I want
My thoughts are like those papers in the trash
Nowadays, I discard more than I keep
Should have learned to edit before to think
Editor, come save good thoughts from the waste

Love, tell me in a whisper of the world
Editor, come save my life from the waste
Our scene began one softly chilling day
There were lies in your head, but that’s ok
‘Cause girl, we’re all actors of comedy
Played the understudy a time or two
But real-life heroes are too far and few
Honest men only lead in tragedies
We can smile and dance and play games all night
We’d lose our parts if we saw wrong from right
We’d all lose our minds to reality

I’ll always be the beat you should have skipped
But, dear, you’ll never stray far from the script
And so my ****** caring eyes betray me
Just too in love with truth to learn the role
And too in love with you to claim control
I’m living between fraud and honesty
And no, you never asked my forgiveness
But hey, we’re all young and we’ll outlive this
Time ever frees you of morality

Yes, time will free us all of ev’rything
The stage will fade beyond all reckoning
Neither applause nor encore will there be
Goodbyes are so hard;
Sticking needles into my eyes--that kind of hard.
I want to hang on in desperation,
Dragging you through the slow, thick water of my love.

But you are quick silver, and have no taste for my molasses rich love.

How easily you slipped through my fingers!
Scuttling off with your geometrically perfect form,
Scattering my dreams like billiard ***** struck hard
By the cue stick of 'this is all too real'.

Oh love, you gathered the shattered pieces of my heart
And blew them into the wind.

While all along, I had been lost in the notion
That you would meld me back together with bits and pieces of yourself.

Oh love, Oh dearest!
I had thought you would last forever.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXQIYxS-Q00
Today, someone rang my bell.
For the first time in two years, my first thought was,

"I wonder who that could be?"

Prior to this day,
--Oh, this glorious, beautiful day!--
A ringing bell was an emergency siren met with dread and fear,
A signal for full alert, always accompanied by that feeling of impending doom;
Screaming out from the pores of my skin--

"Where can I hide?!"

I'm sure you can't understand or even possibly relate.
You, with your normal life.  
You, who feel safe within your home.
You, who think nothing of the buzzing of a bell, nothing but happy anticipation.

Today, I had a normal reaction to a very normal occurrence.
And I felt victorious.

Today, I felt surging within me something akin to hope,
Something that bubbled up inside of me, shouting out,  
*"Yes, you can and will live life again."
This is a picture of life in recovery from PTSD.
Lover, you give meaning to my life!
I want you home (that would be here, my dear!)

With You

I want to explore oceans of light,
And forests of darkest night.

Climb the here and now summit,
Planting the
Flag of conquered*
Our four hands, entwined.

You bring me to a place of bravery,
That place where I can shout,
"Look here!  Find your reason!
There is no doubt!"

Beautiful man,
You walk a tight rope,
You bounce and sway.

You walk your way to me,
I fold myself within your embrace.

*You take me home.
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