I dreamt of you last night
You were holding my hand as if we were together
The feeling just ignited
Oh it was like a beautiful weather

When i woke up
I remembered that you belong to someone else

I felt broken once again
Thinking if there's a chance for us
I will wait for you but until when?

I shall call you,
Miss Loneliness,
In your laceless little dress,
You; glorified red mess,
Leave soon before I obsess,
Pulled me into an abyss,
But you missed,
I shan't miss you,
Or will I?
Adieu

.

I play my guitar,
now crying in sevens
a cold vacant morning
with rain on the ground

Sorrowful chords,
on the strings of emotion
in three quarter tear drops
where sadness is bound

                                   And the storm clouds they form
                                   on the edge of tomorrow
                                   with thoughts ever yearning
                                   for your melodies

                                  dreaming of yesterdays
                                  caught in the feedback,
                                  out of tune longings
                                  in lost harmonies

Breathing in silence
of fret seperations
seeking a songlist
of lyrics unfound  

A chill strums my heart,
sitting empty and hollow
I play my guitar
and there isn’t a sound

Lady, if you'd slumber sound,
Keep your eyes upon the ground.
If you'd toss and turn at night,
Slip your glances left and right.
Would the mornings find you gay,
Never give your heart away.
Would they find you pale and sad,
Fling it to a whistling lad.
Ah, but when his pleadings burn,
Will you let my words return?
Will you lock your pretty lips,
And deny your finger-tips,
Veil away your tender eyes,
Just because some words were wise?
If he whistles low and clear
When the insistent moon is near
And the secret stars are known--
Will your heart be still your own
Just because some words were true? ...
Lady, I was told them, too!

Serene and sober?
More like suffering and sad.
The truly sad thing is that I'm not
Sad, that is.
I'm quite happy, as things come.
Lonely, perhaps,
Yes loneliness breeds its own
Sorrow, pain, agony.
Is this an inability to love oneself;
This I am certainly unsure.
The idea of being alone I think,
Is what truly makes one suffer.
The physical aspect can be,
Overlooked?
The comfort that comes with
Knowing you have a place
Is the thing that really cures pain.
Here I sit, complaining of loneliness
With a loving family, friends and all.
The love I seek is romance;
This bond is different entirely.
A deep connection to one who,
Has no obligation to be there.
A bond forged with a complete,
Utter stranger is something
Beautiful.

I will never understand
the happenings of some things.
Like the horrific and horrible
that happens to the innocent,
like the willful and intentional ignorance,
Of death and pain and torture.

I will never understand
how evil is doled out among us.
By chance, by fate, by deliberate decision?

I will never understand
The recovery that happens,
After the unforgivable; forgiveness,
After death; new life.

I will never understand
Love that won't go away,
Even when told,
Even when begged,
Even when commanded.


I will never understand
how you go on.
I will never understand
how I go on.
I will never understand why.