I have never felt this way about anyone before now.
But I have also never felt depression until this hour.
You are a spot of peace, in a mind on
fire.
But what if you are not heaven, just a lesser hell which I desire?

Can I trust you to take me through the death of my mum and my dad?
Not 100%
Can I trust you to raise our kids alone?
Not 100%

I need 100% baby.

Once upon a time,
open, my pages lay.
An array of pictures and colours;
beautifully typed and evenly spaced
words on display.

Regrettably,
as the years went on,
my pages yellowed.
My ink warped and smudged.

Wonderfully formulated stories
morphed into
demented scribbles of desperation.
Affluence became affliction.
Reminiscence, rumination.

Alas tears
disfigure these pages.
Dust collected
through the ages.
Dog ears are carelessly
recurrent.
Once loved haphazardly,
now in voluntary abondment.

The glue
that binds me is
flaking, fracturing, fragmenting.
My spine is
cracking, crumbling, collapsing.

Duly I reside,
on the tip-top shelf.
Buried by self-preservation,
lies myself.
I obscure it all from another;
shrouded by a glossy, polished cover.

It is suffocatingingly lonesome in here,
oxygen is dear.

But can anybody
make familiar this language?  
Will anyone
discern these dark inky contusions?  
Shall someone
navigate the contents of my confusions?  

These pages
tell a lifetime
of valuable lessons within.
But I give paper cuts
to precious, porcelain skin.

How I wish that I could describe,
how I feel when that music strikes.
Tickling all my senses inside.
Passion warms me as it ignites.

Tunes by my side, clock strikes midnight.
Boosted through miles - I run, I ride.
Heartache, love and peace coincide.
Music narrates my opaque life.

I want to fly, I want to dive.
I want to live and feel alive.
For once I lack the wish to die.
My heart, my soul, my feelings revive.

Negative emotions,
always so much stronger.
Positive ones never
stay to linger longer.

For a heart can be filled
to the brim with delight.
While one can live dying
ever deeper inside.

"You're still obsessed" said my best friend.
I was not even his girlfriend.
We went on one date, one weekend.
Yet no other seems to contend.
That magic night came to an end.
I gained no love, but lost a friend.
Our close bond will never amend.
That promising road a dead end.
Unheeding potential to offend,
I sprinted blind around the bend.
That naive girl, I won't defend.
A wiser woman must transcend.

Put ink to pen
and pen to paper,
the words and stories
will come later.

Never allowing
the water-flow out,
will end in damage,
destruction and drought.

A shiny forehead;
accelerating pulse.

I'm anxious to win;
yet thoughts escape me,
like smoke in the wind.

I lost hold of my-
self, clutching onto
this pen in my hand.

Always, I feel it
escalate - defeat:
my sinking sand.

Never at all  
did I understand love songs before.

To 'do anything' for a smile,
simply couldn't be true.
Until you grinned,
and I looked at you.

Never at all  
did I understand marriage before.

To give up oneself,
your ambitions and goals.
Do it all for your family
and unite your souls.

It perplexed me how
they knew it would work.
Until one look at you.
Then my love, I learnt.

God, my salvation.
Throw me something afloat,
for me to cling to.

He consumes my mind,
my forest fire in the breeze.
I must pull the plug.

God gifted her with
the passion of a
raging forest fire.

He entrusted her with
the love of an
unrelenting river.

To house her precious
soul, his hands sculpted
a worthy vessel.

Golden hair like the sun,
grey eyes like the rain.
God sketched her body,
perfecting it with pain.