Grabbing my shades of yellow,
I used to paint the sun,
that peeped up from low valleys
when the day had just begun.
Then I took all hues of blue,
and filled them in the sky
where a lonely tree would stand,
and the birds would sing and fly.
The greens I saved for grasses,
and the reds were for the flowers,
But now in place of all these things,
now stand sky reaching towers.
And I thought I couldn't paint,
for I grew up and lost my art,
but I know my brush still aches,
for the colors dear to my heart.
So bring me blues skies if you can,
and I'll paint from sun to ground.
But the truth is that I cannot paint,
because my colors can't be found.

Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again

I did everything for you;

You asked me to walk along hot coals;
To press the soft pads of my feet
On the burning surface
Of a path called fear.
And I did it, without flinching.

You asked me for honesty;
And so I stood before you,
Naked as the day I came into this world.
And I let you trace the cracks in my armour.
I showed you all my hiding places.
I let you shine light into the darkest caverns of my mind.

You asked for my blood;
So I split my palms on your sharp edges
And bled a myriad of emotions.
Until you were covered
In the colour of my heart.

You asked me for sacrifice;
So from the womb of my soul I birthed Love.
And I lead her, smiling, to the slaughter.
I watched as you lined your alter
With the essence of my child.

But no light shone from your heaven;
No words of approval poured from your stone lips.
Like the cruel gods of old you took from me;
Then left me naked, bloodless
With scalded feet, split palms
And arms that begged to hold a child that no longer lived.

And then, in the silence, you whispered
...
What Would You Do for Me?

And I replied then as I always do
...
I would do anything for you.

Me?
But I can only sigh.
And wait for a dead melody.