I lie awake each night
Long after you're asleep
I envy your restful slumber
Through salty eyes I weep

As the air thickens
I struggle just to breathe
Bowing my head in sorrow
I pray so desperately

Grant my mind solace
If my thoughts go astray
Allow my soul to carry on through grief courageously

Protect me from the pain
That haunts my every thought
Awaken my restless spirit
If my dreams become too dark

Make my heart resilient
If it shatters painfully
Teach me about patience
While I gather it piece by piece

Allow me the courage
To assemble it once again
As I try not to crush
The fragile pieces in my hand

If my strength grows weary
And I tremble at the knees
Hold my hand and steady me
So I stumble gracefully

Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts

The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,    
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away
to a space and time impenetrable  
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.

Loitering on roads without hurrying feet
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore
passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels
forever barred with no exit
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self
plummeting into a black hole

The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,  
all else is dead…… !  
with dreary nights ahead
that shall not know another morrow

and there you are
walking into another lost dream
your whispers and gentle smile
touching the memories  
I hold dear

like the dream
our time was brief
you turn and walk away as you did
40 years ago
you wanted more from me
another day
another week
and perhaps I would have realized
that I truly loved you
but we know how cruel time can be
and I let you go

I awaken to your image
fading quickly
and I decide to find you
maybe to ask forgiveness
maybe to beg

but I am too late
and you have left me
only to be found
in my dreams
in my sorrow

For so long I was blinded,
but now I see clearly.
You blamed me,
you can never be at fault.
Maybe twice you gave in
but the rest was barren.

In the beginning it was obvious,
I was struck with a new kind of substance.
but mixed in with the distance, lies and resistance.
It felt like for so long, I was inexistent.

I tried so hard,
but I was never your lifeguard.
I was just a distraction,
and I'm sure, soon enough you'll be on to the next one.

It's quite a feeling to wake up each day a little less numb. Honestly, it's terrifying to feel... anything. When somebody has carried on for so long without allowing oneself to feel love, accept love, or take risks to find love, they start to find that they are only half a human and only half living.

This chord may resonate like the sad sound of a violin because maybe the last time you fully loved someone, it gave you the ultimate pain, sadness, loss and suffering to the point where your favorite places, foods, music, shows, hobbies became a hole in your heart and breath. Where the sanctuary of sleep meant nothing to the rising haunted and longing memories within. Where the only solution you can think of is not waking up again and again.

That hole never goes away, and it's something that you just try to get used to. Some people don't, and they take their lives, or die of a broken heart, while others become lifeless. These last hold no light within their eyes, walking amongst us like hollow puppets on strings led onward by everyone else but themselves, never recovering from the shock of the loss of what they loved more than their self.

One remarkable feeling that often remains in loss is hate. To find blame and ask why a million times about a million things and run in a circle screaming at the top of your lungs every time the radio plays their favorite song and you blame the DJ for reminding you is insanity, but you're just looking for somewhere safe...

But you can never have it another way and you make lemonade as best as you can, unsweetened and sour. Knowing we all expire like the lemons under the tree, we make that **** lemonade and bring our recipe to market. With a second wind, the slightest breezes somehow keeps blowing down your lemonade stand.

Others may laugh and abuse you for what they see as a ****-poor performance at making lemonade, but they don't know how hard it was for this person to crawl on ****** hands and broken knees while their salty tears fell into the lemonade they call their own life then shakily offer you a half full Dixie cup of everything they had left.

I applaud those who have had to make lemonade with less than lemons and I applaud those who are willing to try these ad hoc recipes the most broken of us scribble frantic and blindly. Society tells us it is universal that we all want love, but the things that love entail like sadness, grief and loss are unwanted and many believe they can avoid the minefield by being picky, guarded, flighty or selfish... That's not love.

Love is work, love is painful. Love can take a lifetime out of you. It requires that we dedicate precious time here on Earth which we never get back to someone other than ourselves, and that is a risk that must be taken if it is to be found. You will get hurt, you will be broken, you will survive or succeed on your own terms. As humans, we look at the world and wonder why about everything; why am I alone? why does love hurt?

Only the universe knows. O' to say we should never ask if it was worth it and laugh. It always is. Even if you end up at 88 or 28 placing flowers on their grave, love is worth the risk.

it's all over
you told me the truth,
you said the words
that i think i always knew.
it's all over with you.

.
In the open,
Sun alight and in flame
Makes us bare
And we suffer alone.

In the daylight,
Sun addresses our calm
Colours us black
And we shuffle our skin.

In the outdoors,
Your eyes are blinding mine
And sight is cold
As we suffer alone.

I once loved you
And you probably loved me
Out in the open,
In sun that desecrates.