I was the two lumps of
                     sugar

in her morning coffee,
    her lips moist..

Yet afterwards she
             was always tired.

                        Go figure.

I built a castle,
And burned it down,
Watching the ashes fall
And fireflies rise.

A paper castle of much grandeur
Can’t hold a candle to a flame.

Is it red or gold?
I can no longer see the difference.
They both have meaning, warm and cold,
but I have no background inference.

Red like the fluttering cardinal's feathers,
but with a worldless ocean of depth.
The eminent vitality permeates the countless layers,
and a single look was enough to deftly steal my breath.

but it might as well be a searing gold,
with its sheen of softly sleeping amber.
A vibrancy that boils my blood cold,
and fills my mind with fruitless clamor.

I see it as neither or both.
The gold brings solace, while the red is my reality.
Before the colors flow, I must swear my saving oath,
that the delusion will never end my forlorn vitality.

Above the ever changing trees
Lies the ever growing tower of stone.
A swift mountain breeze,
Causes the stout wood to groan.

Like a pebble
Being blown lightly
Across a desert storm,
I was unknowingly blown
Off of the towering stone.

I know I’m Li’l late,
My love’s just a dying shield
That shelters my hate.

There’s a helping hand
That holds me back
From doing what I desire...

Like asking for help.

My lord
Show me the real love
And if you don’t mind
Send it to me
with an angelic dove.