Did you never know, long ago, how much you loved me —
That your love would never lessen and never go?
You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted,
You were too young to know.

Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly before it
Far apart, far away in the gusty time of year —
Seldom we meet now, but when I hear you speaking,
I know your secret, my dear, my dear.

'She means nothing to me' I utter
after saying the words 'I love you'.
I repeat this to myself, slowly,
Mantra.
Calming and smooth.

This was my one goal, this time,
Not falling in love so fast and quick,
Maybe I need a Doctor,
Maybe, oh maybe I'm sick.

What is love, but word or phrase
feeling or thought to the mind?
To me it is neither of these,
For it changes with passing time.

Why can’t I see am I not enough?
Why can’t I breathe is living to tough?
I hear them all screaming and crying in pain,
Why don’t I matter have I gone insane?
How can I miss him like I miss the rain,
Can’t I just run now and hide my poor face,
All broken and fake with the pretenders race,
Is music enough to numb someone’s soul?
Midnights now struck my twelfth midnight toll.

One last chance to smell the rose,
That rose you gave me on my birthday

One last chance to see the snow,
That snow which we made snow-angles in

One last chance to feel the water,
That water which we leaped into together

One last chance to hear the wind,
That wind which blew your hat away

One last change to touch that falling star
That star which you captured in my heart

One last change to be with you
That I wouldn’t miss for the world

This is for a friend.
Some one I believe in.
Some one who holds my secrets.
    Yet may not know he does...
Some one who understands words written.
    And the sorrows in doing so...
Some one who thinks he hides in the darkness,
    But I know walks in the light...
I just want to say thank you.
    To a friend...
Thank you for broadening my horizons.
AC/11/16/09

Van Gogh cut off his ear
gave it to a
*******
who flung it away in
extreme
disgust.
Van, ****** don't want
ears
they want
money.
I guess that's why you were
such a great
painter: you
didn't understand
much
else.