The stars beam down at us,
Smiling as we cruise,
Flickering within the city sky.
We have nothing to lose.

Burdens have been left behind,
Where people have discarded reality.
We have escaped the broken woman,
Managed once more to evade fatality.

Our drive cannot last forever,
But I wish that it could.
If I were able to become lost in the night,
Then I surely and happily would.

The sun kissed your features,
As if its light knew no other home,
As if its illumination existed solely for you.
The sun bowed to you.

The wind rustled your hair,
Your jade eyes beamed with radiant youth.
Nothing chained us at that moment,
The world was the canvas for our brush.

Your long fingers intertwined with mine,
I turned your face to place a kiss there.
You had warmed my insides,
Taught me to command my own fate.

Broken humanity will often falter,
As it ponders which mold to fill in,
Ponders what it must alter,
Which path it must begin.

It is a trembling, cowering bird that hides
Within each of our hearts,
Somewhere in a dark corner it abides,
Made up of many broken parts.

We have the role of nursing the bird,
Bringing it back to its purest condition,
There is a fire that must be stirred,
A stunning, unbridled and pure rendition.

My words peep through
The veil of literature,
Like a cautious creature
With wary eyes.

My words, they swim,
Through these oceans of thought,
Darting swiftly with fear
That they might be preyed upon.

My words often fly through the sky,
Where creative feelings linger high,
But they hide among the clouds
So that they will not be grounded.

My words, I try to use them masterfully
So that I will not be quieted but rather heard.
Still, I must make sure I contribute my message,
No matter how I deliver it.

You are done breaking my heart.
Whether or not you realize this,
It does not matter.
I am not yours to tatter.

You will not hurt me any more.
You have proven your weakness,
And shown that you couldn't care less.
Whatever, I'll find peace in this mess.

Everything turns to dust someday.
We learn to hang from a thread.
Everything will fall apart someday.
We stifle tears when we lie in bed.

If you believe in the Christian God,
Then he made us from dust.
Science declares the same thing,
That we were made from dust.

From dust we came,
And dust again we will be.
That is the truth,
One day you will see.

There will be little left,
Of you or me.
Our bodies will come to rest,
Our souls finally free.

A dream has enfolded me on this day.
It appeared like a hallucination,
Earlier when I heard her say,
"I'm going to stop drinking."

It enfolded and then I reminded myself
That hope need be maintained,
For she has in the past thought of herself.
I must prepare for her sinking.

I have the utmost hope,
Whether it be absurd or not,
That she will learn without it to cope.
But until it happens that is wishful thinking.

I will support my mother,
Believe in her always,
Though this waiting makes me smother.
Will she return to her drinking?

My mask of confidence will remain static,
Despite my soul's protesting of her claim.
My true thoughts slip when I'm in the attic,
Aloft and away from hearing ears.

I hope she will come through,
I hope that she is strong enough.
I hope she knows what to do,
Otherwise the night will be soaked in tears.