Voices cradled
             in hollow cribs.

Loitering whispers are
            ingested haphazardly.  

Comatose I linger awaiting
my voice to blossom again.

I will again be myself
                in an empty room..

Fondness for another,
      loved for its individuality.

Never moaning, complaining...

But nevertheless cold and unmoved.

My pet rock, my friend and guardian
against those who would do us harm.

Life's pictures
some times
don't fit the
          frame.

But when
is life
ever  a perfect
            fit...

She was wet, elated by the
feeling pouring over her..

But then, It went cold..
momentarily losing it...

Then as before a warmth
flooded over her..

She smiled as lathered up
were her moments.

Then relaxation...
        
The shower was over..
         Shouting down stairs!!

*"Don't flush while I'm in here..

You said you would
               climb mountains
for our love...

But that was then..

Now you will not walk steps
                to hold my hand.
Our mountain is but a puddle.

My tears now linger untrodden...

If
  happiness
    was
      a
        cake,


I
  guess
    it
 ­     wasn't
        large
          enough
            to
       ­       go
                around.


Either
  that
    or
      so­me
        had
          been
            too
              greed­y.