"Dear John
By the time you read these lines,
I will be gone."

The rocking chair,
The only piece of furniture
Remaining

"Dear John
By missing the deadline for your
Dissertation
The school will not have you
returning."

The books are boxed

The rocking chair rocks on
With every breath
Taken.

You don't have to die
To have lives wilt and cry.
Looking around through curious eyes
Nothing which was remains.

"Dear John
Your lease has expired
You will be moving on."

The rocking chair
Rocks on.

The twilight seeps in through
Windows without curtains.

The door opens
A moment of melancholy
The door closes

The rocking chair without him there
Becomes still
In the twilight air.

Something I would tell you son
that's only known to me
a burden it is knowing alone
it's time I share with thee.

Shocking was what he revealed to me
tragic too was the tale
of a woman's loss of dignity
her passing thru fire of hell.

Her I have held in high esteem
her sanctity locked in trust
never knew she was a sad victim
of a man's monstrous lust.

My father felt it would only be fair
it needed him just to be brave
with son the secret he must share
not carry alone to the grave.

I hold it now that grave secret
father left his job was done
burdened with a heavy weight
that I can't share with son.

The woman she is still alive
knocking on ninety's door
her skin a shade of dried beehive
she remembers not anymore.

I believe that we could do it
If we really wanted to
I could really fall in love with you,
If I let myself.

And I bus home
On a rainy day
through the blurry embers of autumn
smeared on the Greyhound window
Remembering how she and I
Walked back after that movie
Our breath crystallizing in the wind
But barely breathing
Full of reverence
and sweet sisterhood
the cinnamon bun midnight
and soft whispers
of the life we used to have together.
Bury your sins beneath the heather
and hibernate in hypotensive hallucination
a final hallelujah
of appreciation
for the gifts that were ******
so prematurely in our arms
Straight from the oven
they burned our unprepared infantile hands
as we stood, indifferent to distant lands
and consumed by our own reality.
Well, we're grateful now.
Grateful in a way that destroys us a little
We both know we both know too much
to ever be completely okay
And who would ever want it any other way?
We smile through hard earned tears
and kiss the make-up off our years
And breathe the air of the country that gave us life
And we don't shy away from the things that make us hurt
And we thank the things that help us heal
And we know that home is never farther than a bus can carry us.

So I think we could do it,
If we really wanted to
I could really fall in love with you,
If I let myself

(Lord knows I need an adventure)

I can see so many empty faces
Shrouded in mystery
Nothing seems to give away
The real feelings
The eyes are windows no more
And the mouth utters flimsy words
Masked faces hiding the real one
Can I really face them?
I want to turn away from the lies
The veneer of polish makes them appealing
What’s worth the words?
Never means anything
Only the soul dies a little everyday
But who cares

I have got an infinite number of places to go,
the problem is where to stay......

I heard them,
lots of them
out on the Altiplano,
crying out,
screaming
to the brilliant stars.

And in my heart,
I knew they
had once understood
happiness.

It was a place
where people lost time
trying to remember how to live
& it must have been a holiday,
I saw no less than four patrons
passed out cold,
faces lying in their *****,
empty bottles at the their feet
& the workers
walking around
pathetically
as if,
as if it were business as usual,
just the destruction of human souls.

It's weird to witness
your friends killing strangers,
insurgents,
blowing **** up,
then watch them return
to another zone,
a place we call home.

Usually I like
the color azure,
but her hue was different,
she had eyes that looked
like dripping ice,
a frozen stare
that put chills
up your back,
made your hair
stand on end.
That's cold blue
baby.

you can't  
use someone else's answers
for your own questions