there is nothing I could ever say
nor anything I could ever do
to spark the flame of passion
I long to see in you

its like we stand on different worlds
that just happen to share space
from altogether different times
that exist in the same place

I know you hear the words I speak
see the expressions that I make
but somehow all the love I give
falls lifeless in your wake

From passioned flames, a love is born
Of hopes and dreams and trust,
And when it dies, where does one mourn
When love returns to dust?

For death is death and loss is loss
And somewhere in between,
The death of love will bear no cross
And no grave to be seen

No upturned soil, no marble stone,
No polished box of pine;
No slow procession through the town,
No solemn church-bell chimes

All lovers need a place to cry,
To lay a solemn wreath;
Somewhere to say a last goodbye,
To overcome their grief

rainbows they just fade
there is no *** of gold
happy endings only live
in the stories we are told

pictures always lie
they only show the moment
a picture never shows
after the moments over

true love’s a fairy tale
that we happily believe
and we share that fairy tale
with anyone we can deceive

the truth is found in floods
and shards of broken glass
the truth is broken hearts
and moments as they pass

wherefore does the soul begin
is it just beneath our human skin
or is it hidden somewhere deep within
somewhere bones have never been

tell me does the soul condense
when it’s days on earth commence
does it altogether cease to be
or does it somehow travel hence

and as for its life before
does it somehow matter more
than anything that might come after
it’s ship departs life’s final shore

the night began
like most nights do
when your 20 something
and the moon is full

a random bar
a brand new friend
not a single thought
about nights end

we drank we laughed
we even sang along
when the radio played
our favorite song

as the night got older
we both grew bolder
you’d rest your head
upon my shoulder

too happy drive
that’s what you said
come back to my place
and rest instead

the two of us
on a big red sofa
your back to my chest
with our feet hung over

my wandering hand
starts to explore
along your hips
and wanting more

a slight hesitation
then a button pop
your not quite sure
if you want to stop

then you stood up
the spark was gone
the beer wore off
the lights came on

looking back I wonder now
how the night played out
if my hand wandered north
instead of south

I still dream of you from time to time.
not the good dreams, the pleasant ones,
where you wake up after a restful night’s sleep
and can just barely hold on to the happiness leftover

when I dream of you I dream the dark ones
that wake you up in the middle of the night
falling from some imperceptible, nonexistent height
gasping for breath, grasping for life, drenched in cold sweat

even on nights I don’ t recall ever dreaming at all
a vague feeling of unease will settle over me midday
just when I am certain I have finally moved on, I realize
no matter how deep its buried the past is never gone