I'm not confused,
or broken,
never misspoken,
about how I've loved in my past.

Never faked something,
to get out of one thing.
Never had to fake a lover,
so I know I, love her.

Even though I know.
Even so, I let go.
Even if,I never grieve
about this thing,
it's because I know me.

I've never needed aid,
nor a masquerade mask.

I don't need someone else's
faked speech about how,
I'm me,
but I should change for,
the better of humanity.

If humanity has to rely on me,
better tell 'em,
I ain't the best choice,
and I've taken refuge with a nice choice,
a good person.
A girl.
And, yes, I'm a girl.
But I can still love her.
Even if the sun stops burning,
or my heart hurts and throbs,
for her touch and all that accompanies it, too.

And if you say I can't,
then you've never gotten it;
the feeling of being,
in love.

So, I pity you,
and the wife of yours I knew,
because you cannot love her,
because I said so.

How does it feel, now that you're in my shoes.

I pity you,
and that wife of yours I knew,
because you so not love her,
like I love my own wife,
because to tell someone,
that they have never felt love,
or can never,
is a curse,
that's been put on you.

"You're just confused," they say.
"You've just forgotten the way
things are in this world, in this day."

I guess, I don't know myself,
as well as I thought I did.
I guess, I don't know myself,
quite the way I used to.
And, that, I'll get used to.
Who knew?

"This day in age", they say,
"Things've really changed in a way."
And somehow, I know,
they're right.
But so wrong,
in so many ways.

And this day in age, I stay,
on the same page as that day.
Because,
this day,
today,
I know myself better than,
I ever can,
again.

This day.
This way.
Everyday.
No matter what they say,
I'll stay this way.

And no one can tell me who I am,
or who I should be.

No one can stand up to me,
for me.
For I,
have betrayed no sense of normalcy or,
broken any rules that have been made.
Not by law or religion,
your beliefs can't make me smitten.
No one can.
But myself.

Love
Gets
Better
Together

You're so kind.
Won't you love me.
You're so blind.
Won't you notice my feelings.

I wish you would.
I wish you could.
I figured you should.
I figured you did.

I was wrong,
to assume,
that as everything moved,
you would realize.

I knew you.
I loved you
I love you.
I know you.

And I thought,
perhaps your eyes might not,
Close then,
and then open,

To find me,
sitting there, winding,
my brain,
to not disobey,
and think of a future,
with Clementine and I.

Orange and yellow hues,
filled with golden rays.
Holes in knitted blankets,
colours in an array.

No matter the problems that her and I face,
she smiles and brightens,
her eyes made of lace.
The fabric of them, so thin I can see through,
with more holes to fill,
with love and kindness too.

I love her.
I know this.
And she loves me too.

Though I'm not as sure,
if her feelings are still returned,
I never wonder once,
if Clementine is worth.

Body language, words are not enough.
Clementine is with me,
and she is all above.
No importance bigger than her,
she is what I am.

I would not be the same as I am,
if Clementine weren't mine.

The leaves crunch beneath her,
hands cold and face colder.
Her soul feels pain,
and her breath fogs the glass.

She can no longer see her reflection,
face filled with fear and hatred.
Her movements are weary,
she's almost too scared to move.

Her heart feels broken,
her lover hasn't moved.
She wonders if the light,
will shine bright enough,
to reflect off the snow,
and blind her,
so she no longer feels cold.

Clementine, Clementine,
Clementine in Winter time.
I can feel her breath,
against my skin.

Don't know if that's a sign.
Wish she got my feelings right.

And given time,
I could find a wife,
but not one as good as,

Clementine.

In my life,
I've got a formula,
and she makes it hard,
not to think of us.

Every time she touches me,
feels like heat,
and her hair,
smells like,

Clementine,
please be mine,
I'll love you better every time.

Girl, you will
never
stop
my heart.
But did it ever start?

Never up, or given much,
But I'll give it for free.

Be my friend,
'till the end,
and never leave my side.

More than friends,
seems ridiculous,
and your love,
seems too good to be true.
Any kind, any kind.

And given time,
I could find a wife,
but not as good as,
you.

Because

Clementine in Winter time,
I can feel her breath,
against my skin.
I know that's not the wind.

Her.
She's
lovely.

Clementine,
you're lovely.

Clementine,
just love me,
Clementine.

Rose, with Lily and a flower
made from paper and styrofoam
so it won't break and she doesn't glower,
wouldn't wanna ruin that pretty face
it's encased
cold, iron casket in place,
she don't want it to break

her heart's made o' gold,
and gold, it can bend,
made from a mold,
that hearts come in

entered, engraved
please let her save,
her friend
whether fake or pretend

Because she doesn't want to cower,
when the world is facing her.
She feels as though it burns
her skin.

And she does her best,
whether complex,
or simple,

She,
faces a broken heart,
made from paper and a that's a start,
given beauty,
but never given love

It's,
hard to recognize a failure,
made with virtue in place of rails,
and gunpowder.

She wishes for a stone,
one heavy enough to keep her cold,
beneath her worries, all postponed,
for tomorrow's Rose -gold.

Another one.
This one made from confidence unbroken.

Another one.
This time we give her all we're made of.

A different one.
The difference is that this one gets remembrance.

For Rose.
For Rose we would do most anything, again.

For Her.
For Lily we would break a broken vase.

And for a flower, like you,
we'd never fall short of an apology.
Something we,
never got right.

Oh, Lily, we're so sorry for that right.
That night.

Sincerely,