Give me butterflies
and fairy wings to
soar up high in God's
blue skies*~

I used to drown in my
imagination when i was
a kid. My parents never
liked it. Locked me
up from society. Said no
to most of what i asked.
Pulled me out of my swimming
class. Tried to **** the ink
I used to write little scraps
of poetry with. They wanted
to zip my imagination and
crush my innocent little heart.
But i was lucky because i
met a boy. He unzipped
my mind. Stood from behind
and watched me pick up
my paper and pen and
start to write
again* ~

"Read more. Write more."
That's what Doctor said.
Doctor is my therapist.

He says, "You are not alone. Many have felt this way before, and many have also thought themselves mad. And that's why I'm here. You are not alone."

I think
It's *******.

Doctor doesn't know what he's talking about.

Read more? Write more?

How can I read when my eyes touch a page and then fall to the ground?
How can I write when none of the words I think can make it past my mouth?

How can anything be normal, be fine?

Doctor says I'm not alone, but I find that hard to believe.

"Doctor," I say, rubbing my sore crown, "no matter how often you say that, I still feel alone."

He nods his head. "And what of your friends?"

I shake mine. "They don't like me."

"And what of your husband?"

"Doesn't love me."

"And what of your parents?"

"Don't need me -- they have my sister."

Doctor nods and glances at the clock. "Well, our time is almost up. Any last thoughts?"

I don't change my gaze, which rests on the cactus plant sitting above the fake fireplace.

"No."

I walked through avenues
Finding a quiet place
As the weather disappointed
Rain gets me down sometimes.

And somewhere, you sat all alone
Coffee and ash trays and months old issues
Of the New York Times.
New York City, the mess you were hopelessly in love with.

I dropped loose change
You helped me pick up every coin
And I was taken by surprise.
I was wise,
Wise enough to know not to speak to strangers
But I couldn’t help and dive
Into the thrill of your danger.

All it took was a single glance
You reeled me in, and then there I was
Seated in front of you, my coffee becoming cold
As I listened to your strange, revolutionary thoughts

And I was young, devil-may-care
You were charming, disillusioned.
But the pieces of the puzzle of you and me
Slowly turned out to fit together
Once the hours passed and we watched the sun set for the first time.

Then this went on for days, an unspoken agreement
Like a connivance between secret lovers.
Each day we sat in that same, dim corner
You showed me your little journal, photos
Of the foreign lands you once wandered,
Even taught me I could dream big things for myself.

And again and again, we watched the clouds move and the stars swirl
Through foggy glass windows.
We never left that dying coffee shop
Because you and I lit it up
With the way we were so curious, so eager
To listen to each other.

Leaves turned golden, snowstorms came, and flowers bloomed
Yet there we spoke, on and on
Until we unmasked each other,
Painfully honest. Truthfully beautiful.

Darling, does anyone ever tell you how lovely you are?

Then one day, I came in a summer dress
The cafe seemed darker than ever
And I was left with the ghost of you
Hunched over your cup of coffee,
Waiting for me so you could tell your stories.

A teller of tales gone astray. A lonely spectator.

And now, you are but a story too.
The most beautiful kind.
Would you send me a post card sometime?

Stay up late with me
and decorate the moon.
Hang up on it shiny little
lamps and stamps. Stay
up with me and watch it
shine in the night's sky.
And hold hands as we
watch the stories we
have in one another's
eyes. Stay up with me
all night and be by my
side. Watch the moon
enjoy it's new lights
and sigh* ~

Neon dreams reflected in the waves of the hopes we give to the world in the grey artificial ether. The streets lined with the faces of the citizens, wide eyed walking through with hunches shoulders and happy grins. The gutters over flowing with the over whelming stench of failure, failure to achieve those neon dreams advertised right above their heads.  Arguing remnants of the last nights alcohol fueled fighting. Hazy memories dredged up of childhoods past. A forgotten love of the walking of the streets, smoke on the air, the hazy street lights casting an indiscriminate over the wandering paths. Walking this path marveling at the thrills of life. Walking with a smile, the last you remember of it's kind. A hand in yours. A grey mass slowly floating away, becoming another part of the sky around you. Blending all together. Neon signs cast a harsh glare through the fog.