Do you wanna runaway together..
If you asked me today...
I'd say it was your best line ever..
Too bad I fell for it..
Too bad I fell for all your lies..
You're good at nothing..
And you're good for nothing..

So, take my tortured heart by the hand and write me off...



Do you know how much I cried?
And no, it's not the good kind...

You forced me to become strong...
When I just craved being weak...
I need to forgive you, but its not that simple you see..



Do you care how much you broke me?
Do you know how many nights I spent broken and alone?

My heart broke that day..
And all I could do was cry..
And it's not the good kind..
You're not the good kind..

I'm tired of hiding..
Behind these lying eyes..
How I'm tired of this smile..
That even I don't recognize...

And like moments
were words
I made a wish
to the stars…

And now

Soon I will hold you close
envelop your heart
kiss your loving soul
and when the words
become so real
that we cannot stand
the electric energy
that flows...

Those moments
will be ours.. alone
with each other...

And again and again
we will meet
after dark
as the moon
yawns in awakening
and the only
light to be seen
embraces us
in a sparkling soft shade
of silver blue.

In that secret place
we will always meet
where the clouds greet
the swaying trees
sprinkling moonlight
in the shadows
as your touch
lingers on my skin
a radiant heat
melding slowly
with the
tingling warmth
your love
blankets me in.

in the hall, I listen as she calls out
his name

not aware I am there,
nor would she care

if I open the door without making
a sound,

I purloin a few seconds to watch her
before she sees me

when her eyes catch mine,
she looks away

the morning sun makes a sympathetic effort
to light our room

"our" room which from which I have
been excommunicated

the drapes she sewed only last summer
are never open

that is her world, staring through
baby blue curtains

which mute the half light of morning,
though not enough

not enough to blind her to the spot
where her son's crib waited

until I committed the unpardonable
sin of taking it to the cold cellar

only a fortnight after our stillborn child
was placed in the ground