you and i
we'll move on
and forget all of this.

and maybe we'll even
find whatever it was that
we were looking for elsewhere.

and perhaps
we'll understand
why it ended the way it did.

but what we had
was precious and it'll
always exist somewhere.

in dying leaves and
the silences we shared
and maybe, the moon too.

I did not ask to be held together
Nor to be pulled through the dark
I only hoped to be warm for a moment
To linger a while longer in your heart

When my cold, gray body lay in dark wet ground
In that day when my voice no longer sounds
Remember me who loved you more
Remember me who loved you most
(And meet someday on heaven’s shore)

You and I as partners have run the Kingdom road
For us to leave and forsake
were not mere words

We followed His grace and heard His voice
Stored up treasure in the life to come

please forgive me
If for a moment I lost sight of heaven’s prize
and in my weak folly
was lowered in your eyes

Walk backward my love and forget those days
Walk backward with a mantle of grace
and let love cover my naked shame
Remember me who loved you more
Remember me who loved you most
George Grogan

No obligations
No simply faking
No sweet nothings
No heart racing

No holding hands
No gentle demands
No feeling grand
No wedding band

You thought it would be innocent
Always thought I was heaven-sent
A demon, from Hell I made my ascent

Who is she?
Who am I?
Sing me to death
Your love's my lullaby

Sunken cheeks
Blackened skies
She's out of breath
Her veins now hide

But who is she?
And who am I?
I suppose you noticed
I am she
And she is I.

i would never ask
and you may never tell,
but do you ever see that
dream of us in Mexico?
it's okay. it's okay. it's ok.
you don't have to answer.
just hush now and say
something sweet to me
inside of your head.
Tell me dear tell me
do you still see us
at the Louvre, in the rain?
is it me standing there
or is it someone else?
how do his hands feel?
how does his voice peal?
does his fragrance waft
away from his skin and
tickle the ***** minora?
does he wash his sheets
every four or five weeks
to keep the lonely facade in tact?
does he live on a staple of
beer and roast beast,
an occasional moonshine
when the mood strikes him just?
does he torture himself senselessly,
incessantly, bridging the neurons
to find he's forgotten it all?
... does he love Cherry Coke?
no.
he isn't there with you is he?
it's somebody else. somebody
with yellow hair to his shoulders
and bright shining blue eyes:
the kind of eyes that tend to
outshine you, and all the
things you convinced us
you've got going for you.
the kind of eyes that seep charity.
oh, is he there with you when
you're snorkeling in the Maldives
and you realize that you've gone
just a bit too far underwater...
you're very deep when you
well know you shouldn't be.
then tell me: what happens?
you are found and swept,
carried and rescued until
BOOM! You breach the veneer
and there are all your friends
looking down at you, thinking:
"thank the Lord our Savior for
Titus Arnold Masters McMajor."

but love please love oh love,
tell me who you really see.
touch your lips and swear to me
that it isn't the mediocre man
who doesn't spring to your mind.
both of you without a stitch,
floating abreast and prone:

skeletons in the Dead Sea.