What could I say that would change your mind?
Would it be easier to tie a string to the moon and pull it to earth?
Still I speak into the unknown
My own voice, in solitude, returns to me
Though not as it was when she left
I have had days where words have bubbled out of my mouth as quickly as the regrets could follow
Days also, where not a word could be pulled; by any hand or persuasion, through teeth gnashing in my mouth

Silence she is a queen
Though she does not always sit upon her throne

It seems my mind, these days, has to many pages, but none to turn them like wheels in a stream
This ache in me eats away at rest and resolution
Soon she will go hungry
And I can feed her naught but contempt and dry, empty, hopes
Oh that you would come to me
In any hour of the sun
Find me as I am
And speak to me as such;
One whom you have missed in the abundance of a field, flooded in Spring, only so that the bounty of the harvest would be overflowing

Find no fault in me
As I find no lack in you

I will patiently explain my love to you for every day the sun dances with the moon

my eyes have walked places with me that my feet could never carry me

We are made up of just little tastes of almost tomorrows
To many yesterdays still trying to hold on
So take this for what it is
A moment always reached for
But never touched
As pure as a thing can be
When you lay dreaming
Next to me

The Liar
He whispers
Through the seams of my pillow
With his rasping voice
Like taught threads

The anxiousness
Beads on my forehead
And prayers
Slip through my teeth
Like water
Through a clenched fist

The Liar
He says to my dreams
That he will be with me
Like a woman
Who lays beside you
While the sun passes
On into tomorrow's light

His whispers
Are crystals
Of salt and sand
It fills my mind
Such as hollow spaces
Are meant to hold
Like a mother her child
In the days of its youth

Clutch as I could
To days that stretch
Into weeks and wonder
Rather than these moments
A fleeting feather
Falling, fallen, lost in fields

My soul a sunflower
Wilted in time
The Liar
He comes to me
Plucks a petal
pick away
He picks again
Dry and husky
Like a voice worn
By years of smoke
And tobacco kisses
Plucking still
Am I a field?

The Liar
He wraps
His hands around my throat
The Liar
He walks
Between worlds
Fingers hooked
In the heel of my shoe
He is my shadow
Though not the same
Petals and promises

The Liar he takes
What cannot be given
Thoughts never spoken
Before they are plucked
From my tongue
Still curled behind my teeth

I have an old soul
And a young heart