Across the room you sit
Absorbed in thought
Biting your lower lip
While you contemplate
Lord knows what
But I wish it was me

Shyly, I stare at you
My bangs hiding my eyes
Praying you don't notice me
But wanting nothing more than to attract your attention
And perhaps I could draw a smile
From your thin red lips

You're beautiful
Not in the flashy, mini skirt kind of way
But in that subtle, wink across a crowded room style
Flying under the radar, until noticed
When you steal the show
And capture my attentions like nothing else can

I do not know why a girl like you
Would give someone like me a chance
So I sit here dreaming, hoping, longing
For the day when I get the courage to walk over and ask
If you'd spend some time with me
And pray you say yes

There once was a girl
Who gave herself a name
Different to her own
And dyed her brown hair
Blonde
And said it was her natural colour.

She lived in a flat
Far away from home
And though she paid the rent
On the first day
Of every month
She never felt it was her own.

There was a forest
Near the home that wasn't hers
Sprawled across a valley
Though she never said it
And rarely thought it
She longed to get lost in it someday.

But she didn't
She got lost in nine to five
She was a waitress
Earned the most from tips
From men who liked her attitude
And her long blonde hair.

Lovers were sparse
But never unpleasant
And she thought about revealing
Something more
Than the superficial
But always changed her mind in the morning.

And she never had regrets
Even when a yellow cab
With a sleeping driver
Sent her up into the air
And she took one last look
At the unfamiliar sky above her.

And though a few people
From the town she never lived in
Said it was a tragedy
It was maybe for the best
Because her dark roots
Had just begun to show.

My grandmother liked you
But does not fail
To remind me
"He needs an education"
She does it out of love
maybe fear
Or both, neither

I do not argue
it may be true
but just as facing your fears makes them real
so will her words
that stain the inside of my mind

Love used to make the world go round
you are still my prince
my king
but I do not know if your love
will ever pay the bills
And the castle will not
stay afloat

from adoration

I once bumped into an old friend
we sat there and talked about how life
drove us into madness and left us with pain
I asked him furiously, why don't we get
the joy instead of pain and the vain?
the pleasure and euphoria of *******?
the endless love of being absolutely insane?
my friend looked at me and laughed
hysterically, I recall then said to me
my dearest, we're ******* writers
we don't get the joy nor the pleasure
in our existence we get that in our
words, poems and prose but in reality
we can only dream of that never ending phase

desperately
attempt an escape
from cliché
and doing so
live another

midnight musings
jotted down in
cluttered notebooks

they never seem as grand
as they did
with heavy eyelids