Why is your heart broken my love?
I waited days to speak to you.
But words had failed me
I seek solace in your company but receive only romance
I wish I could touch your face and know what kissing the tears of heaven feels like
Let me nurse that broken heart that had gone amiss

what's the sense in reminiscing
being the one that's left behind
when all your friends go missing
by way the art of dying

when you reach the fold of much too old
to want to carry on
if truth be known out loud was told
all your friends are gone

what's the sense in reminiscing
if all you do is cry
no need to waste time guessing
when you know the reason why

when the world moves into season
where all it knows is cold
in its quest best be believing
that you're the next to go

what's the sense in reminiscing
if all you have are last goodbyes
trying to keep the secret hidden
that death is a part of life

you find this section hard to row
being the last one in the boat
what's the sense in reminiscing
when you can barely stay afloat

She drapes her beauty
over a gossamer sleeve

breathes music box melody

through the spindles of dreams

elopes with the stars

and whispers
lavish possibilities

through a cauldron of clouds

she, the whimsy,
midnight Blues fantasy

seeped in gin
drizzled over
my sins

she is madness
and meaning

commingled in
pearlescent
glow

I will retaliate with his mouth,
and you will become what you have made
me.
-- you leave me to stagnate;
talking myself in and out of love, I
forget the curvature, and allure of your body,
and the parts of me that fit in it
starve.

-- call it neutrality, abandonment,
or an "inability to live within" yourself -
call it your serotonin's-seppuku, or
the fact you are inconsiderate;

call it out, like you did in your sleep: "I love
you;"
I do not.