My fingers close on nothing more
Or less than what was there before,

But what is now was meant to be.
This heart will starve in reverie.

So to the next, whichever path
This river takes, what's past is past,

What's next is next... but now is mine--
My gift to me, all bound in twine

And velvet drape. The water's still.
Shall I leap? I think I will.

My heart is the cradle,
for all you give,
oh the love you have,
it makes me live!

My heart is the cradle,
rocking back and forth,
as you pour more
of your passion in.

My heart is your heart,
and doesn't it trip,
the cradle tips,
and your love seeps in.

while others dream
she lies
curled in her shell
a snail of underwear and eyelashes
with each blink
the blue glow shimmers on her eyes
reflecting a calm sea
that used to know fire

but where is the tempest?
where did the
grasping groping clutching
fingers lose their way through her hair
they were supposed to arrive by now
while the figures wait
shrouded and distant
at the bus stop

is it possible to light a match that has already burnt out?

I'm way too young
I'm way too young
Love all around
I can't stand the feelings

I'm way too young
I'm way too young
Love all around
I can't stand the feelings

Still way too young
We are way too young
You say you want love
But we run from our feelings

Still way too young
We are way too young
You say you want love
But we run from our feelings

☁️