Never wanting anyone to feel what he feels
A troubled soul keeps the general smiling, laughing and amused
Away from what’s real
Keeping them away from his own fears
The souls he keeps happy not knowing
He only enjoys the rain so no one can see his tears

The angels' harps play a sacred tune,
while planets dance around the moon;
In subtle strains our spirits rise,
and leave us grateful and starry-eyed.

Recalling life as it once seemed,
this vision floated inside a dream;
In many days of endless chants,
the angels' harps cause us to dance.

When voices touch each other's hearts,
there's always a sign creating sparks;
And with that strong secure emotion,
then lives connect with pure devotion.

No longer chilled in fears of life,
all folks fly far away from strife;
The added wealth of kinship stands,
as children sing while holding hands.

Delicate lines,
You drew yourself in the corner.
Painted bars around your dreams.
Said no to in between,
Trapped yourself in the extreme.
You smudged the lines on boundaries,
You highlighted your flaws.
Nothing in this picture,
Is what you would have drawn.

It’s an art.
Hiding behind the lines.

There is a long and winding path
With trials none other can match
I know these trials shall make me strong
So I shall fight my whole life long
For if I falter or if I sway
I may get lost and never find my way
I shall defeat these trials one by one
I shall finish this path which I have begun

A timble of breath
spills with her "yes"
eyes respond honestly
yet
edged with a trickle of nervousness
as her fingers trace
contours of flesh
along forearm and bicep then leap to cup
nape of neck
and lure tentative steps between distance of our lips. And lids close out the rest
as the kiss inhales a timble of my breath

Every time i see red
All i can think of are those rose petals on the bed
The broken heart
The broken promises
Left me wanting lead in my head
But yet i survived
Learned from the experience
My soul to contrive
The scars on my heart
Have healed over time
As all wounds do
But it still left a mark
A mark that i refuse to bring in the dark

You have never been definite.
Your infinite definitions, each
contradicting their precedent.

A dull, double-edged sword,
unsharpened, unsheathed,
guided through my chest
by naïve empathy.

You are perfection
with intrinsic flaws--
I drown in the furious rapids
of your teary waterfalls.

I could venture on my own,
avoid you altogether,
but risk losing the essence
that keeps my soul tethered.

If you are love, you are an empty prison.
Empty cells,
empty halls,
plain white walls, motives hidden.

So what am I feeling?
Is this pain or affection
knocking loudly on my conscience
and interrupting my healing?