We are together,
But I wish we weren't.
I hate you,
For making me,
Love you so much.

Home isn’t something on the path.
It’s something you feel, someone you see.
Twisting trees upon the breeze; memories of life
And leaves. A splash of wine that sets you free,
A ghost of heaven and its pleas.

Home is an edge that bleeds,
Gloating. It changes, grows, something homely,
Something foaming.
Something clawing for the morning.

Look too close, and there it goes,
Hiding deeper in the folds.
The edge retreats; I’ll never know
What slid away inside my bones.

But it fuels.
The night drapes, the storm breaks, the cold takes;
And it fuels.
Grueling, loathing, something hoping,
Something you want to go to at the end of every day.

And you where my home.

Girl stands all alone
shivering in the cold,
With bones made of ice
and a heart encased in stone.
Who is there to hold her?
Who is there to keep her warm?
Who is there to help her,
to shield her from the storm?
She can taste the ice in the air,
she can feel the frosty blows,
She can take a falling snowflake
and touch it, still cold, to her nose.
She sings out loud in a crystal tone
and screams when the sun shatters it,
She dances on a stretch of thin ice
and dares her feet to break the surface.
Girl falls into the icy pond
and shivers shatter her bones,
So she closes her weary eyes
and sinks down to her home.

They say that time is supposed to heal you
But after all these years
I've never felt more broken

K R W