But it's also amazing.
Because I met him.
The first guy to ever meet my family.
The first guy to ever see me dance
for the final time.
It's surreal in a way,
but I don't want this feeling to ever leave my soul.
I'm happy,
and he makes me happier.
I admit,
he doesn't know a lot about me,
but that day will come.
And when it does,
I'll know if he's the one.

Walking through the forest in a dream-like trance.
And you're on my mind,
And you're always there.
Using my hands to feel my way through the leaves and bushes and branches.
I'm sorry I'm always like this,
Believe me, I try not to be.
And you're in my head, most of the time.
Other times I tell myself off for being so dumb.
I tread softly, speak softly, almost disappear, I don't deserve to be here.
In this place, too good for a thing like me.
I move my arms as I dance alone and imagine you with me.
Don't talk to me, I'm tired of always doing this.
I'm exhausted, falling for you like I always do.

Just take my hand and tell me everything will be okay.
I don't care if you lie.
Just speak softly, don't break me, I'm not sure how much more my fragile body can take.

"You're so amazing
and I'm lucky to have you,"
the message read

and what you didn't know
was those were the sweetest words
my eyes had ever seen.

Throw the window open
To bring cool air to a room
Which gathered heat
With all the thoughts
Bouncing off the closed walls.

Night. The sky, a bruised purple,
The clouds faint, infra-red.
The trees are cut-out silhouettes
Placed in the foreground of endlessness.
1.a.m. The night is still.

There is the hum of a plane in the distance,
Last train now long past earshot.
Thin blue curtains play at the breeze,
Tickle my shoulder
As I kneel at the ashtray,
The windowsill altar.

Ornaments reveal themselves
In the black gardens below.
The gnome with the broken tambourine
That kicks up in the current,
The wind chime on the Apple Tree;
The bell on the house cat’s neck.

Staring into space all night
But with this view
I do not have to strain my eyes.

Do not linger on the details
That are lost in the shadow.

Always made time for the moon.
The quiet one at parties,
Only came alive at night,
In the company of those who drink wine,
Swallow pills in the morning
To see the day through.

Room scarred with scorch marks,
Stains from drunken falls.
All those endless nights,
Dead bedsheets,
Waiting for the chemicals
To push my head underwater,
To find sleep.

Windowsill vigils,
Awake with the moon.
Kept myself alive
For these pockets of time
Where I do not need to talk.
Where I do not need to move.

Send me wild roses from the train
From a mountainside I'll never see
With drops of rain
Write me a letter from your room
When the night is old and the air is cold
I'll write one too

Wherever you are
Don't let this bring you down or break your heart
I'm sure you'll take it easy from now on
Now that you're gone

Send me Spanish boots in black
As a clear sign to my hopeful mind
That you're never coming back
Wrap them up in satin lace
With your perfume and golden loom
And a picture of your face

Send me everything I gave to you
Those little gifts around your neck
And my sweater too
For everything you send back to me
Misery and memories
Sets me free

A picture of a small rose bouquet.
I look at it and I'm reminder of you by it. A beautiful stunning thing of beauty that I hold dear. The love is there in my heart for you. When I pick it up, I see your reaction in my mind when I gave you the actual rose bouquet. I saw the bright lovely smile on your face; my love for you was swelling in my heart. My love. As I looked at you, looking at your smile. I leaned over and kissed your cheek. Your smile brighten. "My love," I said. You looked at me. You were smiling. Your smile will always stay in my mind. Forever.

oh, are you scared to be a little
pumpernickel buttocks readied to be baked?
mm, mm hmm, i bet you
are... i bet you have gingerbread legs
readied for a sprint, that will only
add the necessary crunch: like blueberry
jam in a muffin, toothpick blues
of disuse when the fingers are licked.
huh?! when was baking synonymous with horror?
should i send for the psychiatric paramedics?
you're talking spaghetti helter skelter!
will that be a salad entrée too? i know you're
sensitive, ask your daddy's daddy why he's
censoring right-wing politics and i'll just say this:
use the rhubarb and make the ******* crumble!
because we have psychiatric "specialists" running
around without censors, educated in something
else, resorting to feeding their self-esteem with
vague knowledge of psychology, and they're not
even considered mad... they're the mad ones...
they think all philosophical prose is a crossword
undecipherable jumble!

When he sleeps at night, he dreams of glorious things.  Things only he knows, he can see, he's created it all for queens and kings.  This night was different ,he could feel it in his bones. Effortlessly he tried to wake to be back in his home.  No matter how hard he tried he could never break through, to escape this dream what could he do?
He walked with Gods, not knowing his place. Wondering if there is more than just a pretty face.  They were so wrapped in beauty, they did not see how much more to life there can be.  He saw deeper than the skin, trying to reach the beauty within.
For days he was lost in a kingdom of ghosts, created by memories of a life he knows. Asking questions, looking for a clue to fid out what he is supposed to do.  Every face he see is perfect, every face is the same. His mind seemed bored, dull and plan.
Among the faces he see a light surrounded by things that give him a fright.
Although he's created this world for himself, something has changed.  Things seem darker, more cold and the people once young have now grown so old.
"Why can't you wake, what did you do, how come no one can ever see you?"
He hears a voice coming from the unknown, asking him why his body isn't shown.
Has has been forgotten. His glory fades, only seeing knowledge instead of being vain.
These Gods don't understand, they do not see, there is more to a person than just beauty.
The dream he created has become his hell,a world full of things no one would sell.  Fake and lame, yet pretty as can be, he now understands why no one can see.
The dream he once loved is for a boy, full of Gods and beauties, nothing more. To wake he must learn the truth.  There is more to beauty and youth.  He'll never truly feel until he knows beauty runs deeper than it really shows.

What do you see?
What do you think of me?
Honors student, violinist
Maybe a future scientist
You'd never guess
When we'd first meet
That the girl I am
Is more than the one you greet
Get to know me
And you might see
The true person beneath
The apearance bequeathed