Trapped inside this pen, I write the words but they never show on these pages
Try as I may I know the ink has been dry for ages
Bottled up but never sent,
The water in which my darkest insecurities flow does not make it past the dam that builds up as a lump in my throat

It’s depth, which was once only two foot deep, has now become fifty and I am left to drown in self pity

That was until you, a wandering deer, took a chance in the currents that had claimed many before.

I don't know you but I want to
I don't know you but I dream of you
I don't know you but I wait for your call
I don't know you, I don't know you at all.

I don't know you but I feel close to you
I don't know you but I overdose on you
I don't know you but still I wait for your call
I don't know you, I don't know you at all.

I don't know you but I tried to
I don't know you but I would have died to
I don't know you but I'm still expecting your call
So who am I? When I don't know you at all.

Dreams come and often go,
But you are the deam that will not let go.

A dream that  weights my stomach but leaves hollow my chest,
An after taste that reminds me of you at your best.

Attached to memories I secretly cherish and to me do gently sing,
It is not that l o n g  for you but closure that you will never bring.

I can paint all the details of your face, from your soft cheeks and delicate grin to the tiny dimple that sits in your chin.
But your eyes, I have no clue...
Are they green? Are they Blue?
It's always different in my memories of you, fields of luscious green, seas of crystal blue.
Oh how I wish I knew,
Are they green? Are they blue?
I stare longingly, drawn into the riptide,
Swirling peacefully in the chaos,
Only to come to the end with no recollection,
Just the warm feeling that radiates from your stare.
Were they green? Were they blue?

What happens when we take our last breath?
Do we know? Or like with all the moments that fill our lives, does it pass us by?
Do we ever savour moments? Or is the savouring of a moment in fact another moment?
Like with all the questions I have ever asked in life, I am left with more questions and rarely ever answers.
So don't question, just do.
Don't think, just feel.
Don't just speak, act.
Because who knows what happens when we take our last breath.

I book the same apartment, for the same dates, for another year
The hall creaks so desperately now that you are not here

I go to the same spots, for the same time, walking the same way
I miss the warmth of your hand, the cold caresses without consent, a reminder that I couldn't make you stay

In the evening I sit on the beach and light up a cigarette, like I used to when I was with you
I feel the kiss of the salty sea spray against my face, a ghostly reminder of the one true, whose feeling I cannot replace

I always thought time would heal these wounds,
Emotional trauma from years past,
Forgotten by the abuser but never  by the victim.
We play pretend,
Acting as though all is well, like a well rehearsed scene from a hollywood film.
But a stiffness has set in and the take no longer looks believable,
The director calls cut!
Unaware of the fatigue and mental strain his little puppets are under, trapped within their contractual silence.
There is no expression of their pain, they are not reflected in this adaption.
So here I am drinking on a thursday, because as the bottle becomes emptied of liquor, it quickly fills again with the fear, anxiety and confusion that will always be repressed.

It starts a spark in my stomach, a passion from down in my soul, my heart only plays to the sound of rock and roll.
My eyes ignite a blaze, you're caught in their gaze, trapped behind the glass of their fiery glaze.
"I would do anything for love" is all that will play, the fire is more than my stare can contain, together our bodies erupt into inferno. Each kiss is tender but wild, each touch is soft but violent, each moment is peaceful but chaotic. 
Every spit and crackle from the fiery blaze is an emotion we can no longer conceal. You unleash it all upon me, every raw ounce of feeling that has suffocated your heart. It fills me up and with every breath it pumps through my veins corrupting my soul, it's flame once red now burns deeper blue.
I've lost myself in you, together we are locked in two, caught in your cage, you begin to steal my flame. Distracted by the way you call my name, I do not feel the pain, suffocating in the sweet symphonies of your body.  
The passion in your eyes, ignites a fire in your soul, your heart now only plays to the sound of rock and roll.

It’s the first embrace
The first words you said
The first time it was going to be forever in time

It’s the first time in love
The first promises we made
The first time when we forgot about time

It’s the first mistake
The first heartbreak
The first time we lost our way

It’s the cold embrace
The hurtful words you said
The promises we broke
The trust we lost over time

It’s the last embrace
The last words you said
The last pull of a cigarette
It was the last time

It begins with a white lie, bending the truth, a way to the limit the pain so that trust can remain.

Like a bridge ridden with wood worm these foundations will break under the pressure of the tale you cannot keep up with to tell.

However telling it gets, you still hope  
that it holds out long enough to see you across to the other side.

The Romance you began anew cannot escape the *****, grey shadow from the past that stalks you.

It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back and once it has caught up to you, it is too much for the bridge to hold; crumbling, snapping, splitting down the middle until it finally breaks sending you spiralling into the murky waters you created below.

Your lover does not fall, no, she evolves into a higher being casting judgement and shame, chaining you to the anchor of deceit that sits at the bottom of the lake, leaving you to drown in your own mistakes.

No light reaches you down in the dark.

The screams of anger cannot he heard.

After all, you were the one who pushed the button. Your broken heart is of your own destruction.

Each chord played is agony,
Running my fingers over the strings,
The strings that feel each and every scar,
Scars cut oh so deep into my heart

Raw emotion etched across my face,
An indescribable pain that can be heard in each quiver of my voice,
The sound is of the song trapped in my soul way below,
Every echo from the speakers is a call from my forever aching heart,
A heart torn apart with one wish to be whole

“Hallelujah” rolls from my lips as a whisper,
Faith placed blindly in a god that I don’t believe in,
I write down all I can,
Bleeding heavily into these empty pages,
The music that plays is the only way I can communicate how I’m truly feeling,
A desperate attempt to be in the comfort of another

As I continue to play the tears stream uncontrollably down my face,
These eyes once blue have faded to grey,
Words that have no meaning,
Dreams that aren't worth dreaming,
Facing a dark corner just screaming

Exhausted,
My heart still barely beating,
I drop my guitar,
I know I’m defeated,
Succumbed to this damming feeling

I sit here in the fields that made me dream and listen to the wind
I don’t know what it’s saying but it’s tune is sweet and innocent
It carries the whispers of lovers and settles the mind of those who cannot rest
It’s always beautiful whether the sky changes from blue to grey

The only place I feel at peace with my heart

I’m left with goosebumps on my skin
I trust it with all my emotions
If it were a woman she’d be my best friend
The chill she leaves down my spine is comforting
Time means nothing in her presence

It’s not something that can be controlled nor contained, yet between each breath we try out best to merely subdue it.

It hides in the empty promises and apologies we give to others, cemented in the walls of the foundations in which we build trust.

It’s the lie we tell ourselves for reassurance but once realised quickly turns into self-loathing and swamps us in fear.

We resent it, yet give into it like a guilty pleasure AND FOR WHAT? To be plagued with doubt and regret. We take one hard look at ourselves, pleading the vicious cycle end. Then, in true alcoholic fashion, we take another shot of denial, “Tomorrow will be different.”