Did you ever
a dandelion pick,
blow each seed
and make a wish.

Was that wish,
a wish for wealth
or was that wish
a wish for health?

Or was that wish
a wish to see,
a field of gold
in front of thee.

grief was sharp when i lost her,
a knife that cut clean.
it hurt, but at least i knew why.
now the sadness has no name,
just a weight i can’t put down,
a dull ache that never leaves,
a quiet kind of drowning.
i don’t know what’s worse,
the pain that made me cry
or the emptiness that won’t let me feel.

Maybe not trenches
maybe just graves
Where I've laid all
my treasures ,
memories and rusty knife blades .

When I'm flying at 30,000 feet
All that separates my life from death
is the silvery skin and my dubious breath

Roman candles or Greek fire ?
My curosity dares me to inquire

What happens in the night
stays in the night

I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.
Wind whispering through my skeleton,
They tell lies to the young sprouts of the forests.
Convince them that not only is life a foolish game,
It's a foolish game they're losing.
An old soul, I stood tall watching poets come,
Then I began to wilt as I watched poets go.
The eyes that once admired my growth,
Turned to fingerprints and memory.
My bark is riddled with stories,
All the lovers that made a promise on my skin,
Leaving the now grim scars of foreshadowing.
I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.