I'm sorry for saying I love you. . .
Can we go back to yesterday,
when we were best friends?

If I smiled more the first night,
If I laughed at your joke on the third birthday party we celebrated,
If I tried harder.
each night is the same,
a different memory, a different critique If . .
What could be different?
Where is the fault?
If I changed that minute detail.

Would you have stayed ꨄ

Moonlight, you which gazes down on me . . .mockingly.
I see your light, I see your smile, I see your mockery.
I kick, scream, reach , plead , gasp for air,
in this ocean of regret, age, and despair.
"Let me be free", "Let me escape"
But this is no fairy tail, this is life.
From a child who cried when they could not finish the lunch their mother worked so hard to buy.
To a man, who's shackles of love, family, devotion and pride only pull me down deeper, deeper, deeper into my own excruciating extremities.  

What are these feelings of longing, of fear, of despair, that have yet to occur?Why do they hold me?
What is this anxiety?
Dear heart, please change your pulse only for me,
let me be free, let me forget all their faces, let me be me. . .
I plead, I plead and I plead. . .
No one is listening, Nobody cares. . .
Only the moon which gazes upon me notices, but only to mock me. .

The peach tree died today,
dried from inside,
there is no butterflies, no bees, no birds that feast.
lie to me & tell me its okay.
Invent a story or two,
tell me the tap broke, tell me you fell asleep.
Just don't speak the unspoken truth, that you were busy with them.
As I was away dreaming of our future white picket fence. . .

Written words,
can not describe everything I do for you.
I write
I write
I write
For you
Thousands of similes, hundreds of metaphors,
smells, sounds, emotions, feelings.
Yet no words can describe why I write for you.
Ironic right.

I hold myself at night,
“I do”. . .  distant echoes, awake at night at your side.
The smell of linen, your snores so distant and yet so close.
I hate myself for dreaming. . .
Of someone coming to dance with me,
Even though they hate dancing only because
it's with me and no one else.
I hate myself for dreaming. . .
Knowing it's not you,
“I do” distant echoes, young lovers. . .
Formerly in love

Raindrops on my sea,
Let me float amongst his arms,
Deaths sweet lullaby