I still remember her house vividly;
It was always messy, clothes and toys littering the floor
While the cats wandered by whenever they pleased.
There was a beautiful doll's house that she cherished so much
That she let me play with as she spoke to my parents in the kitchen.
Guitar-playing was a passion of hers,
And I'd sit, transfixed, as she sang along to the songs she played,
With a wide grin on her face, that was her home.
Now it's not.
It's never going to be her home again,
Because now she lives in a home for old people with health problems.
She had a breakdown after the death of her sister
And no-one could give her the help she needed, so she went away
Where her loved ones thought she'd be well looked after.
There the staff kept her locked in her room,
Mind atrophied from the solitude they forced upon her
Except for the times they shoved antipsychotics that she didn't need down her throat.
No-one visited her. How could they?
Her son insisted she stay in her home city
Even though everyone in the family lived in another.
My mother couldn't see her own sister, busy being a carer for me and her mother,
Not for years, and by then it was too late.
She'd fallen over, broken her hip and banged her head,
And she suffered through the agony for three days,
Until my mother found out and demanded they take her to hospital.
Then the home was shut down and she lives somewhere else,
Only five minutes away where she's visited often.
But it's all too late.
Once lively, outgoing, big booming laughter that filled the hallways,
She's now timid and frail, she's aged twenty years in only six.
There are no passions, only forced smiles
Dotted here and there, on rare occasions, with genuine glimpses of happiness.
And I'd love to tell you that I'm writing this for her,
Because I love and miss her and want to document the downfall of a woman so wonderful.
But I'd be a liar, because this write is as much about me as it is about her.
Every time I look at her, I can't help but wonder how long I have left
Until I'm in the same place as her.

I want to kiss you.
It sometimes physically hurts not to kiss you.
I don't want to look into your eyes,
because I don't want to see the confusion in them.
I don't want to explain myself.
I just want to feel your breathing on my face as
my lips fit onto yours.
I want to slip my thumb
under the line of your jaw,
and tip your head back,
to expose your beautiful, long neck.
I want to run the tip of my nose along it
and to hear nothing but our breathing.
Sometimes I look at that face and
it's like I've been hypnotized,
my greatest desires want to come out.
I want to kiss you sweet god in another life
I would kiss you.
And then afterward,
press a soft hand to your lovely head
and wash the memory from it.

The sky feels so blue
It cries for my hands to hold
But I can't reach it.

Clouds can't cover up
The damage humans have done
Sobs water down; droplets

You have a little starlight left in you
An undying flicker of burning flame
And the canvas is left to feel quite blue
Yet you keep your head up high all the same.

When you go to slumber, your friends arrive
With their cheers, their happiness and their joy
Yet through dark clouds and blue skies you survive
And brought bright light for others to enjoy.

The sun, that sits like an inmate in bars
Selflessly carried on spreading brightness
And couldn't ever join the other stars
Yet never did the light dim the slightest.