Going blind,
You stumble my way,
So devine,
Luminescent glow by the sun ray.

I hold you to my chest,
In harsh winds we fly.
The shadows of a beauty,
With a wonderful dark side.

Left soon,
Cloaked by dew,
But your bitter petals fall,
Gently and silently
Leading me to you.

If I could pluck a wild flower,
I'd **** a beauty so stunning.
A precious resemblance of,
A sweetly bitter love.
A woman so cunning.

Pitter-patter.
On the window.
Pitter-patter.
On the sill.
Pitter-patter.
Does the child.
Pitter-patter
from your mouth.
You say you don't,
I know you do.
You say you won't,
I know you will.
You pitter-pat all the time until-
until you pitter-pat your way,
to driving out insanity.
Pitter-pat.
Pitter-pat.
Tisk-tisk-tisk.
Tat-tat-tat.
Yo­u pitter-patted through the house.
You pitter-pat like a measly mouse.
You say you don't,
I know you do.
You say you won't,
I know you will.
Pitter-pitter.
Pat-pat-pat.
The rain against the window resembles,
the sound after a pitter-pat.
You clasp your lips,
say you'll make no sound,
but you pitter-pat
all the time;
all around.
You say you don't,
I know you do.
You say you won't,
I know you will.
You pitter-pattering,
chitter-chattering,
skitter-scattering,
little rat-like
mouse.

I held the tiny, uneven piece of my heart in my hand. I didn't know what to do with it, where it came from, or why it was in my hand. Before I could do anything it crumbled before my eyes in such a slow motion. As slow as it was I had always been slower. The whole time I felt like something in my heart and mind faded away so slow I was not fast enough to respond. Gone in the wind the dust spun. That dust just- was gone in an instant. I don't know anymore, I feel like I can feel. I haven't gone numb. A shiny point came down crashing next to me, but I didn't flinch. I didn't move my eyes at all. It drew on my head, wrote words on my shirt, and erased the past. "I shouldn't have simply let go," my mind said. The voice was blurred. Every sight and word was coming through a blurry screen door. Every movement was empty and dulled. I felt the eraser drag away my eyes, my head, my ears, my nose, my mouth, and then me. Suddenly I was evaporated. Clouds were drawn above me and dropping me to the floor. So I was a part of a cycle now? Okay. Up, down. Up, down. Up. Down. I was water in the mist. The mist I would've been so captured by, but I was no longer me. I was only water in the mist now. Only water in the mist.

Sometimes I turn to look at myself with a hole in my mind and forget..
I've always felt this way.

You said goodbye and I said ...but you're still alive. You didn't understand what I really meant then,  and so I had to say goodbye, but I swear, those words were no drare. I could not see the day the same, until...I thought about my words meaning...you needed to just know what I meant and so I wrote a letter.
    To a friend who lived saying I have nothing to give,
   To the sour days when you couldn't win and you couldn't give up,
  To the heart burning with freedom and fairity,
  To the life of morals you wanted but could not keep,
I said "...but you're still alive."
  To the broken hearts and broken bones
  To the sharpened knives and sticks and stones,
To the troubles and the dooms that rode your way
  I said, "...but you're still alive."
To every inch of lose and every inch if gain
To every grain of salt inflicted on your pain
To the things no one could understand inside your thought-filled brain
I said, "...but you're still alive."
And though the words now dip stomach and scratch my throat,
Though the words are not as charming as they used to seem,
Though they've lifted off with the greater end of my cares,
Though they aren't even true for the best persons anymore,
All I can do is hope that if I repeat this line to all whom come to me then one day I might meet you again and these words being your saving grace. I know each pain may weigh you down, ...but you're still alive.

They grab a leg
and shake...
and shake.
They grab a arm,
because I don't-
feel the harm.
They grab my hair,
my fingers,
my toes,
my eyes,
my ears,
my heart,
my nose.
One by one
each piece goes.
Before I can breathe
they've stolen my breath.
They pick apart all I have,
and I ask,"is this death?"
Death so empty,
yet I feel peace when alone.
All those years I cried for someone,
but I feel so shaken;
so happy on my own.
Let my sharing freeze over,
that someday it plop and rot,
to see their grand expressions,
will they still care or will they not?
I've given all I have,
I've said goodbye to all I love.
They've looted me entirely,
do they yet have enough?