"They"* say 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall'
Well, if that's true
Then...  My heart must be huge
Cause I always fall so hard
So fast
So incredibly hard
'In love'
I try to tell myself it's not love
When I have that dreaded thought
"I think I'm falling in lo..."
I stop myself,
Because I KNOW
When that feeling comes...
Only a broken heart is sure to follow
I always fall...
TOO fast
TOO hard
TOO wholeheartedly
I think it's a curse been given to me
So, even though I may lie to myself
Thinking that I'm not in love with you
I know deep down
That it's *not true

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, tell me what suits,
Soft natural highlights, or strong punk roots?
Auburn red or beach blonde hair,
Brunette with greens, or short blunt rare?

Mermaid midnight old balayage blues,
Grey ombré curled with lilac hues?
Lemon yellow paint or neon spice,
Purple color that matches my hazel eyes!

Tousled, textured, twirled and twined,
We could take it to the front, or let it all behind.
Black hair with beautiful mahogany dye,
Fringes looking pretty every day passing by.

Straight hair with an asymmetrical bob,
Lips painted red, formal and hot.
Tie buns and bows with colorful clips,
Grow pink hair long, till they reach my hips.

Fish tail braid like a Boho chic,
All pastel shades spread, across the width.
Blonde and bright, they are in my sight,
Soon to be a celebrity, wearing them uptight.

Burgundy wine perm, crazy long,
Every hair color has a song.
There are chances that they may look all wrong,
But hey! I'm not scared to just play along!

How many are the years
I've wondered, wandered alone
with no one to call my own
no one to hold in the night
no one who could care
if I live or die
since you, my husband,
died after fifty years of
a good marriage

Who cares now ....

I miss you.

Once upon a time there was a person
He was walking along
He met the full burning moon
Rolling slowly twoards him
Crushing the stones and houses by the wayside.
She shut his eyes from the glare.
He drew his dagger
And stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.
The cry that quit the moon's wounds
Circled the earth.
The moon shrank, like a punctured airship,
Shrank, shrank, smaller, smaller,
Till it was nothing
But a silk handkerchief, torn,
And wet as tears.
The person picked it up. He walked on
Into moonless night
Carrying his strange trophy.

When my years are
stretched thin like elastic

that is at breaking point
or just past it

I'll be glad that I keep
my best memories deep

in the grooves
of a black slab of plastic.