You sat there waiting for me in the dingy cafe,
You had pills hidden in your purse,
I should have smelled the tainted smoke in your breath,
This is all it's actually worth.

My time I spend, each day I try
To fix up this messed up life,
While the pain never subsides.

I was waiting for you at one time,
I had believed in your sense of direction,
Your understanding and convictions,
All failed with but simple inspection.

My life I lead, this whine and your greed,
Pain in my heart with how you speak
Like you're the only one I ever truly need.

In the end I was looking for someone else,
They were lovely, beautiful and smart,
Kind to animals and fighting for causes.
You know why I stopped waiting on you?

*Because that isn't the least bit of what you are...

Maybe one day I'll finish all of these half started rhymes
When the day comes where I can lay in tulips all day sipping a bottle of wine
When the earth stops spinning and I'm resting on cloud

...   ...    ...   ...

So here's to another, half finished piece
Maybe it'll find you more solace than it ever did me.

She spent every day under the cypress tree
Listening to the ocean in all its glory
The people passing in all their hurry
The birds singing in all their harmony

She spent every day beside the ocean
Wondering why she feels so broken
Wishing she could remain there, frozen
Silently wasting away, regretting the paths that she had chosen

She spent hours upon hours with her feet dangling off the cliff
Convincing herself that if she fell she would never be missed
Believing happiness was just a jump away, a dive into the mist
Hours until sunset then she was inclined to resist

Tomorrow is just the same, I shall watch her debate
Watching her from a distance, implicitly afraid
Admiring the same soul that she chooses to hate
I watch her and I wait, day after day.

A poem, a poem I've got to write.
But nothing seems to come tonight.
I guess I'm just not very bright
When it comes to writing poems.

I crumple paper sheet on sheet.
I think of deadlines I'm to meet.
I haven't time to sleep or eat;
I've GOT to write a poem!

The time ticks on --it's two o'clock
Our light's the last one on the block.
Perhaps if I could take walk
I could better write a poem.

Then suddenly I get a thought--
I put it down to the very last dot…
And then I think, "It's not so hot."
Why CAN'T I write a poem?

But then I say, "'Twil have to do."
The morn is come; the night is through.
I'm tired but proud, I can tell you,
'Cause I just wrote a poem.
                        ^^^