look for you
side                          to                           side
knowing you were never in clear  view of my perspective.
each step closer you are a step back and then you disappear
like watching a tablet dissolve in water
the tablets gone but the color of water is oh so changed
my color will always be slightly changed
you let me see through a key hole what loving you is like
but then ripped it away faster than a child's attempt to play with flames
your purpose to me stands undefined.
only  a reminder, even  with trails of my past heartaches i still
would like to love deeply like a fool
you will cboose to love less,
continue to pull the door step mats from beneath future lovers
and leave cold bare feet on the wood
my bare feet chose to walk away, but my pathetic heart is imprinted
spending days
writing an album worth of songs for you ears to never here
playing piano with one fragile hand and
grasping a mason jar overflowing with whiskey with the other.

I was dead river,
No water left in my course.
Greens turned grey,
Sky looked far away.
I looked up every day,
Hoping it would rain soon.
I lied thirsty under the burning Sun.
Then like a sudden rain...
You came into my life.
And I again felt alive.
You turned me into a river...
That dances with storms,
Sings with thunders.
You made me beautiful.

It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane

Maybe I could write those things here.
Those things that I wish I could say but I don't know how.
Maybe we can both write to people who don't exist
And pretend somehow we receive it.
Maybe those words are safer in a place unknown.

You once said,
sleep is for the weak
and I feel like Achilles
limping across the battleground of your
subconscious; eyes half shut
are eyes half open.
How long will it be
before I too drift into
the limbo of your nights
and forgotten
when you awake?