I am a man of glass
I am delicate,
I am fragile.
I am brittle,
I am beautiful.

I am easy to break.

Brave queen of lions, walks proud among them, watching her people;
Proud lioness, she rules the savanna, all that the eye sees;
Zebra and springbok, hippo and meerkat, all pay her tribute
Under acacia branches, she sits there, queen of the grassland.

Ah, my lovely dear, I wish and desire
That you would read my writings ode to you…
The fact that no things ‘licite echo brings ire
And deep sorrow, like you told me adieu

Yet still I write for I love you so, with
My poet’s heart. I miss your eyes, dark and
Deep, like the void which separates our myth.
Your smile, a rare sight, stamp’d me with a brand.

I miss your beautiful, light brown form,
So caramel sweet, yet sweeter is your
Laugh. Eccentric as you are, ***** the norm!
I love the confidence, so easy you pour

My darling, Kel, distance makes my heart grow
Yet soon like a balloon, it’ll break and blow.

When conversations end,
When the people all leave,
When they all go and enjoy their own lives
When I am finally alone...

I first sigh with relief; solitude at last,
I go about my own business,
I start to grow with unease,
I find myself wishing they'd return...

But they won't.

Every night,
Every night,
Every night it comes back.

Each day,
Each day,
Each day it lingers.

I stay,
I stay,
I stay in constant motion to keep it away.

But...

Every night,
Every night,
Every night it comes back.

The loneliness,
The loneliness,
The loneliness that consumes me.

I wish,
I wish,
I wish I could just live.

But...

Every night,
Every night,
Every night it comes back.

The weather seemed to match my emotional fizzle
It rained on from despondent grey sky
Not even mustering a proper storm, rather a drab constant drizzle
The sky was me and I was the sky, I couldn't be that guy,

Could I?
He who waxed on ‘bout woe
Yet about what had nothing to show
I remain, yet the rain moved on, nothing more than a by-the-by

Sigh after sigh, I felt myself slip
Deeper and deeper into my dip
Yearning for something to excite
Yet knowing not what came on as a fright

I am no longer the sky, rather the sea
In constant consequence movement, with no will of its own
Indeed, indeed, that guy is me
The one so drear, who must atone for crimes uncommitted, all alone

A prisoner of fate
I am now the ground
Nothing to soothe me but a soul made of slate
Now I must find a joy in this drear, to enjoy the ride, for are we not all hell-bound?