Ignorance is bliss
Feeling light and free of darkness
Merely floating atop of an unknown abyss
Yet never seeing the hands that keep you floating

Smiling without a doubt
Walking with your head in the clouds
Unaware of a dark shroud
Suppressed by unnoticed hands

Bathed with an innocent light
Finding stars in a starless night
Creating miracles with a smile just as bright
And with hands never seen

You stand untainted by the dark
A place so sacred and yearned for
You hold one of the last sparks
For these ***** and hidden hands will fight the war

For you
To protect you
To shield that spark

Ignorance is bliss
At the cost of another’s happiness

They float, slowly
Cascading down
Sifting through the air
Swaying back and forth
When I reach up to touch them,
They move ever so slightly
Away from my grasp
Avoiding my touch
They want to stay
But remain far enough away

Would it be a cliché
If I say
the element
Of my nightmares
Is mostly her in your arms

Would it be a cliche
If I tell
You made a house
In my thoughts,
A permanent occupant.

Would it be a cliche
If I admit
The first light of day
Seems so heavy on my brows,
Without having you to wake up to.

Would it be a cliché
If I confess
You are the only one I can write about,
My words have a way of evolving
Themselves around you

Would it be a cliche
If my heart aches
At the way you say her name
You voice so gentle, barely concealing
The longings you have.

Would it be a cliche
If I say
The main element
Of my nightmares
Is her in your arms

what i wouldnt give for a little time machine
something that whizzed and buzzed and hummed
that swept me back into your arms
a little ship that slips through the cracks
between the days on the calendar upon my wall
a sweet little rhyme that turns back the clock
a word or ten giving me back the time i lost

what i wouldnt give for a little time machine
a chance to hear you, a chance to feel it all again,
maybe to say some different things
or perhaps not to have said anything at all.