The sky is burst with colors
Showing the vortex of heaven

The sunflowers are dead
Before she showed you how to catch

The meadows look divine
When the wind brushes the tip of peonies

Your face is wrinkles
From your never ending war with your madness

The church is only a place where you speak your grace
Before you gave it the meaning of your painting

I think your beautiful mind can never be defined
For people will never see who we really are

It ought to be lovely to be old
to be full of the peace that comes of experience
and wrinkled ripe fulfilment.

The wrinkled smile of completeness that follows a life
lived undaunted and unsoured with accepted lies
they would ripen like apples, and be scented like pippins
in their old age.

Soothing, old people should be, like apples
when one is tired of love.
Fragrant like yellowing leaves, and dim with the soft
stillness and satisfaction of autumn.

And a girl should say:
It must be wonderful to live and grow old.
Look at my mother, how rich and still she is! -

And a young man should think: By Jove
my father has faced all weathers, but it's been a life!

lies wet on my lips
eyes set to the sky
ears keen to the sound
of your reluctant goodbye

the gods hold my silence,
as aphrodite sews my lips shut,
all the while your fading silhouette
becomes just a bit too much

for years i'll long for your touch,
but i'll forever wear this hue
of a red so strong
it brings back visions of you

I want someone to look at me and think
****
She's the one.

And when I see it in your eyes, I will know the truth.
I am yours, and you are mine.

It fills me up with fury
A cold and silent rage
That spills out only from my eyes
And now onto this page

The anger is not because of her
Nor is it because of you
It's simply because you have a past
That makes the hate seep through

I should look at the present
And the future we have ahead
Forget the ghosts we both have
Dwell on us instead