Can you ever really make up sleep that you've lost,
Can your mind settle when your health is the cost?

When she tells you she cares and a moment you pause,
but her actions are damning; they paint a lost cause.

A wiseman once said for the highest of highs
Are the lowest of lows when the fireworks die.

Must we be young and stupid, if to ever be wise,
Or know the truth in her words, if we've never heard lies?

Will men always pay for the damages brought,
by boys making choices without second thoughts?

Will she always abandon in search of adventure,
Morales, and manners; replace values with anger?

Am I not a man if I act out of fear,
but to feel naive when I look in the mirror?

There isn't a path the truth will not alter,
Not a shadow is found in the final hours.

As the fireworks end, the colors will taper,
Answers lie in the ashes and die with the cinders.

I use to look at your picture every day.
Then four times a week.
As of tomorrow,
I'll have almost made two weeks.
A long time passed.
Excruciating.

I'm not OK
They pay me to be.

I planted tulips last spring.
They weren't for you,
But I thought they could be.

The tulips bloomed again
Three red, one yellow.
As bright as your carnation
On prom night yellow.

The tulips bloomed too early
Hence the wilting.
I said I'd pull the weeds and tend.
It's almost been two weeks.
Excruciating.

...if a picture's worth's a thousand
In your gaze lies my memoire
I say a person's eyes must change
Fore within your stare I'm marked....

I write. I drink and I write. I fill bins. Many bins.
I look at your picture. I study your eyes... I start again.

I set the table. I dimmed the lights. I'd like to say I won.
I will not say I knew you. I've no idea who you've become.

My eyes never shifted from the table. We may not have stayed the course,
Had I noticed your eyes so full of tears, instead weighing what we'd served.

...they capture pictures come to life.
They capture scenes in their reflection
When you catch me eye to eye
You'll learn me from the silence...

Am I made to play the part, A vagrant full of sin...
The proof is in perspective. You've seen who I have been.

Each time I leave behind a piece. A picture will not do.
Words will not to fill my chalice. My inspiration left with you.

...the black lines divide the darkest colors
Must be the labyrinth I'm lost in.
Fore when you grow bored, not for my words
I would surely be forgotten....