Though the sky may fade,
your eyes grow dim and rheumy
and the sun lose its golden halo
I’ll still see you
I’ll carry a torch to
light your  corner of darkness in the world

Though your voice may quake
and few may stop to listen
as you fight to convey opinion
I’ll still hear you
I’ll listen to find a
meaning through confusion in the words

Though most sound is quelled
and as if in sleep
your ears miss the sounds of morning
I’ll still speak to you
remind you of
who you are, both to yourself and those who care.

A widow bird sate mourning for her Love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.

There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground,
And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel’s sound.

Empty sky filled with smoke
No more bursts of light
Suicidal snowflakes tumbling down
hitting tired ground
It's last year's funeral
This year's birth
The sun will shine again
Even though it hurts

through the h a z e  
o f  t h e
s m o k e
                I could see
                your face
more clearly
than I had
                   since...
you died

My ex almost lover slides down the page of my messages.
I've got a whole book of faces, and his is the only one I'm looking for.
I have to click the 'see all' button to even catch a glimpse of him,
And even then, it is only his back in the mirror as he walks away.

I count days, hours, moments.
I memorize lines, words, syllables.
Soon, I will make the decision to try to forget him.
The lovely ex almost lover does not know this.
He thinks (at least I imagine he does) that I've already forgotten.

But he beats a staccato song inside my chest, like a hard rain on packed, dry earth.
He wakes me every night with his silence,
Like summer coming to an end, the cicadas ceasing their chorus.  
You don't know how accustomed your ears have become,
How much you need that sound, until it vanishes,
Becoming nothing more than an echo of memory.

A week goes by before you ever realize what it is that has been intruding on your sleep.
There is an absence of the familiar,
and to keep yourself from falling off the edge into the abyss,  
'dear God, will I spend the rest of my life alone?'
(Breathe!)
That habit of loving shadows reinvents itself.


*Once, I believed in fairy tales.
Maybe, I always will.

If you see me
tell me to take your hand,
to stop the fall, to finally land,
before I reach the bottom of a black-bearded abyss.
Don't miss,
oh, and maybe one more kiss
before I see me
pulling everything away.

My eyes couldn't pound
through the seductive sound
the click
tick
stick
of the lock.
You saw me
your fingers tucked
deep in the pockets of your silence.

Oh willow tree,
What do you see, from your branches, which grow way up there,
How many years have you witnessed the tears, of the lover’s which seek solace here,
And how would you cope
If they tied a rope to one of the branches you bear,
And swung from the noose falling free, falling lose, as the wind blows your tassels of hair.

Oh willow tree,
What will it be, Will they come and take all that you’ve got,
Strip you down bare exposing you there as your wilter and crumple and rot,
And all of soles who walk the long road to see you in all of your might
Will shudder inside and the harrowing sight, at the damage they’ve caused in the fight,

Take it from me tree,
But I’m not that wise, you have been here for such a long time, lend me your words and ill Fight hard to speak but If we enter that battle we cannot be weak,
Teach us your ways tree; root us to the floor, we’ll armour our bodies and with strength we will draw, A picture of knight to rival up day
And in the shadows of darkness we’ll kneel down and pray,

Oh willow tree,
How you’ve sheltered me, through the love and the loss and despair, ill write it all down,
Put it in the ground and forget that it ever was there,
Burn it to a pulp as you witness my faults with my secrets you never will share,
For I trust in you like the others all do, with the insanity I regrettably bare.

Don’t take it from me tree, for I’m not that wise,
Without your advice, I lay by your side, begging you please, to never leave me
Alone at the sight were you’ve faithfully been
But alas they will come they will take you away with there weapons of war, with there greed lacking shame
They’ll tear you to the ground, and the crash of your sound Will echo to all that once shared
A secret with you now what will they do, when they see that you’re no longer still there.

These birds of war that encircle the sky
painted dark by smoke from fires engulfing
events here: every one of them spawns
an illusion, spreading in all directions, until
no twig is untouched: everywhere only
the Mistletoe. Fragrances of the deep night
by the ford under the moon, silken hair
soft for touch under first rays of the golden
morn, images, return broken like imprints
on the ramparts; where now, those oaks
of love that sustained our passion for war?
Years sunk into the quicksands of greed,
After nine winters, now only the Mistletoe.

Shut me out
Close me off
Ignore my mouth
Without a thought.

I sit beside
stare into space
to you my seat
an empty place.

Ideas dumb
Words not there
Beliefs wrong
Brain hot air.

Your tender talk
or should it seem
for i know
is but a dream.

Fool the world
blind their eyes
the shining mask
is your disguise.

Your phantom face
like his is scarred
behind the mask
your kindness marred

Your candy smile
plastic cheeks
casually chats
deception shrieks

Invade my life
Steal my dream
Insult my identity
Inside... I scream