He left a letter on the dresser
addressed to whom it may concern.
It read "Never falter under pressure
before the tides can take their turn.
Everything is dying -
The likes of man and all his pleasure.
From paper planes we're flying
to the wooden chests of treasure.
But one Truth will always stand
long after the last word here is spoken:
There's always been a heavenly hand
to heal the heart that's broken."

Their love was never possibe
It could not be allowed to be
So deceptively decadent
The way the beach consumes the sea

Amidst the fields of flowers
Where no one would ever see
He stripped her heart bare
She begged him willingly

Exchanging dangerous glances
It made her heart to race
He consumed her every thought
They made it do in haste

But their days began to narrow
The path became unsure
Deceit flared out of it's nostrils
For their lust there was no cure

The parting was barely visible
She went about her way
He chose the other path
That led down to the cay

She sails on luxury ships
He sits in a crabber's shack
They both look over their shoulders
Always looking back

For their love was never possible

I’m a simple man and nothing more, of mediocre means neither rich nor poor.

People misunderstand my quirky ways, I don’t seem to give a flying fig these days.

I’m more than content with the man I’ve become, I march to the beat of my own drum.

I wear my failures like the finest weaves, but not foolish enough to wear my heart on my sleeve.

My imperfections I keep at my feet, so as not to trip I keep up with their beat.

Don’t look to me as shrewd or savvy, I just found in myself a way to be happy.