Some songs do not truly end,
they only change with time.
It seems are song follows this trend,
and I am forced to revert to rhyme.

The broken dance of silent dreams
was meant to be the close.
But there's a remix of our song it seems,
and I'm forced to think with prose.

Do you remember what I set out to do,
a year from this very day?
It seems my words of passion were true
and the dance is having its way.

There is a twist to our broken song,
and it has lead me straight back to you.
and now this is a place we both truly belong,
but I am hampered on what to do.

Ad Finem,
It rose tonight  with no warning and came,
and over and over it spoke your name.
It's neck was red where my hands beheld it,
and scorched my brow with its scorching breath.
I thought it was dead, but with no warning
It told me a love like this can know no death.

It was enough to wake me at the hour of three,
and to frazzle my sense of verse.
And it won't let me stop thinking of you and me,
and the eternal circle curse.

My thoughts shall not turn to action,
they will not interfere.
For the negative reaction,
means no more than means a tear.

I must think to a hundred years from now dear heart,
when the grief will be o'er.
I must accept the absence of the kiss through the rose leaf rain,
and mask this dreadful secret pain.

I now know that it knows no death,
and so for that I will save my breath.
It's something that goes beyond the laws of verse and rhyme,
It is something withstanding the test of time.

The structured chaos of our sinking house of dreams
is where this all must stay.
For I just want to see you happy it seems,
and I could not stand to push you away.

I would love to put away our past,
and start something fresh anew.
For a friendship is something that can last,
and I would like to have that with you.

I love when we are together,
but I can't help how I feel.
I shall mask it altogether,
despite it being real.

I just do not understand my heart,
Though I know it true.
We had such a brief start,
yet it has lasted through.

I have never been like this,
my lingering feelings make no sense.
Something about our kiss
made this all intense.

So for now I will sit here thinking
of the meaning of this poem.
Why I was awakened to write this,
and why to you I roam.

So number six of this story,
of how a broken man gleams,
searching for our glory,
sinking in our house of dreams.

I would much rather talk,
but am confined to write.
Running against the clock
with the end in sight.


How do I reach her? How do I say?
All the things she pushes away.
She does not answer my messages, she ignores all as feign,
and I am left stranded as Macbeth's pitiful Thane.


So I asked a friend on what to do.
How I should go about talking to you.
She said I should find you in person, or actually call,
but I thought both ideas were destined to fall.


I told her that I tried, and you did not want to hear,
Though this is the last time I shall ever be near.
Finding you in person, or making the call,
She argued noble, but I saw it squall.


Of course, I argued that is what I wanted to do,
But I did not want to intrude on you.
She said if I truly wanted, I would find a way,
But I am truly coming to the eleventh hour of the day.


She said I need to recognize how I made you feel.
As an object with mere lust appeal.
But that was never truly the case,
but I was never able to finish the race.


So as our music is fading away,
I scramble to find the right way to say,
That I am sorry and want to make things right and true,
Because I truly care about what I did to you.


I just hate the thought of leaving with this loose end,
and being unable to halt this downward trend.
I want so badly to make things right,
but this possibility is dimming from sight.


If given the chance, I don't even know my words,
I cannot foretell as great as your cards.
I am speechless at the very thought,
although the true situation is what leaves me distraught.




You want to know something that I will admit to none?
There is one thing I am determined to be done.
To master the art of ballroom dance.
Perhaps I see it as my second chance.


Even with this passion, I question my own intent.
What is the reason for my ballroom time spent?
Shall I master out of my own true will?
Or shall it be for a hole I cannot fill?


Either way it will come true.
Master the dance is what I will do.
Is it perhaps a twisted song,
That will be played so I can belong?


If that is my reason, then I am a fool.
Learning to dance is not the tool.
Your lack of fluidity is not why she is gone,
And mastering it will not rekindle the song.


So as I leave this place now for good,
it hurts that my intentions shall ne'er be understood.
Will I bother her again to say goodbye?
Shall I try to bandage the hurtful lie?


As much as it hurts, I will do but none.
For her sake alone, I will be done.
if to me she wants to speak,
She must do so within the week.


But I do not think she wants to say,
Anything to me but “go away.”
So I shall hold my tongue and relinquish my last try,
to make things right and to say goodbye.


If given the chance for her to hear, I would change my verse.
I would talk to her in a manner she respected.
If she were to read this, I could not say my final speech in rhyme
because it would take away from moment.


Yet direct speech must also be evaded
for I am unable to fully
fathom the idea of her reading this.
What would I say?
Would I say you were in my dreams?
Would I be able to tell you the inner thoughts of while I sleep?
The moment I try to impress
with my heart's open desires,
she is swept away within a wave.
Leaving me desolate and alone.


The salty sands of time could not make
her see through
that one
hurtful moment.




I try to speak, but
it is as if I am invisible.
Then suddenly I am seen. But it
is not me that she sees.


It is a shell that casts aside all my good intent and leaves
nothing but imperfections and
I am once again
ignored.


Even my dream
couldn't take the truth.


We had gone our separate ways.


What is the point of rushing through hopeless corridors
when the light will never be seen?
I try to escape, I try to release the truth,
but she eludes
me.


Just as all hope has been lost, I see a light.
I rush to find myself upon a balcony.
I have yearned to find that which
is in the distance.


Through the storm's current
and the woeful winter tides,
There she is again. I felt you were somewhere
and-
I was somewhere,
but-
Now 'we' were gone somewhere forever, sinking in our house of dreams.


Despite our crossing paths
and intertwined speech,
there is nothing more we share.


So this is my final silent goodbye
that you will never hear.
My last gift to you
that has come out of this structured chaos.
Our song now fades into the eternal distance.

I miss her. That is all I have to say.
A single picture is all that I hold.
The night is not night, and the day not day.
When the story is left to be untold.
I silently beg for a second chance,
back into the lost and beautiful past.
My maladroit feet have halted the dance
and it has hampered the length it shall last.
Shakespearean Sonnet, a structured set,
for all the chaos that entices me.
The impending Omega sure will let
the cold winter tides return from the sea.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Or shall I let thy anger push away?

A few days a part with time to think.
The results of my actions are starting to sink.
I try to move on despite that nagging voice,
wondering if I had made the right choice.

As I sit here thinking, this poem forms despite,
The feeling of sinking, and how I hate to write.
This is an outlet of the past, something I had let go,
but the drought did not last, and I have this to show.

I hate to write with form,
I despise of its grace.
But just as an impending storm,
I must finish the race.

I took her advice and rethought what I need.
But the reoccurring thought is how I must supersede.
Even the nights of which I don't spend alone.
My actions of betrayal I cannot condone.

Even when with her, there is a silent voice.
Hating me for making the wrong choice.
How can I stay with one when I think of another?
How long can I maintain this halfhearted cover?

I do not expect a reply, or even for this to be read.
I know our brief past, you wish to be dead.
Writing for me gives a final chance,
To express what I feel and finish the dance.

I know what we had was brief, yet true.
And I promise that I was genuine with you.
I am not trying to **** back into your grace.
I will do my best to give you your space.

I thought these poems I would limit to three,
Then you would never have to hear from me.
But maybe your reaction is worse than I intend,
Since after the last, you deleted me as your friend.

Even without you, I cannot stay with her.
With this everyday I am becoming more sure.
Although last week I had been with two,
I would rather have none if I can't have you.



Silly I know, you said you barely cared.
This was a thought you clearly shared.
Barely phased by me, you seemed to leave,
Leaving me with nothing to retrieve.

I hope you take all this with stride.
And realize how it kills my pride.
To admit such feelings when I attempt to be so tough.
And knowing that nothing I say will be good enough.

So for my actions I am torn on what to do.
When one has told me to stay away from you.
Another of whom you seem quite fond,
Told me to attempt to regain that bond.

As for me I don't know what to do.
I will do whatever is best for you.
I just don't want you last thoughts of me,
to be of a person you could not genuinely see.

You are an amazing girl, and deserve much more,
Than all the things I have had in-store.
We just moved so fast and I never had the chance,
To figure out what I wanted from our dance.

Being with you felt so right, and it was hard to ration,
the true feelings of my confused passion.
For your sake I am glad I told you then.
But I needed more time, despite no good when.

If I had more time maybe I would have silently chose you.
That is what my heart wanted me to do.
But you seemed disinterested, and I blew that chance.
And I had to come clean before we finished our dance.

So this is the second of three, and I don't expect a reply.
If I do not hear from you again, then I will let this all die.
I contemplate not sending this to give you your space,
But I feel that I must, as a “just in case.”

If you reply with a “stop,” after my send,
The trilogy of poems will come to an end.
I say this merely as a virtual knock.
I do not wish for this to end in a virtual block.

If you do not reply to me, there will one day be a third stance,
And it will truly mark the end of our dance.
I know I should not send this, but I must despite,
because I can't leave this behind without a fight.

I know for you I may be making this hard.
Perhaps this poem is an unfair card.
But I do not write this for style, or for something to do.
I feel compelled to write because I never got to say goodbye to you.

So here's the final verse in this second song.
If you wish it, I will not be here for long.
I conclude with a reluctant push of the send.
I hope one day you can find a dance that does not come to an end.

How one does reach the beginnings end
when the heart is hampered by woe.
The outcome hung eager to impend,
and there was nothing left to stow.

It was many and many a week ago,
In this room I first did see.
Where beauty she first did show,
What I wanted to be.

The elegance of her movements, and the gentle look in her eye.
For me an instant connection, for her a single lie.
There would be somber nights alone, when I would briefly catch a thought
On this mysterious beauty, who shall forever entice her spot.

There was that single night, with horror and connection,
where our lips first did meet, and I felt affection.
It was a moment of passion, and utter bliss.
There was nothing to hold me from such a pure kiss.

Forthcoming days passed as years as we grew together.
A brief sense of inseparability that could have lasted forever.
I was a fool to let her in so fast,
As I knew that I must take care of my past.

The cards themselves, did see what was true,
All along I knew what I must do.
It was a decision I had thought through,
and it was the hardest thing I have done.

I will miss that smile, that look in your eye,
The way we touched, the eternal seeming high,
The best opportunity that has ever slipped by,
Because you deserve better than me.

Back rubs and kisses, dancing partners, and bones,
All bare sharp reminders of the saddening tones.
Broken beds and The Crazies, Elm Street and dance,
All the things that I have lost my chance.

Named cars and bathroom signs, Anime and creaky stairs.
I will have to shrug off because nobody cares.
Secret chocolate stashes and cuddling, Buffy and Intertwined legs.
To get these back one silently begs.


Cha Cha and Waltz, Salsa and Swing,
Us together these shall no longer bring.
First true moments of pleasure and a relieved sigh
All the things of which I must say goodbye

So then came the night where I would make things right.
To tell the truth and stay for the fight.
I hoped with the truth, we could move on and stay,
But all she wanted was to push me away.

Apathetic she said, never truly cared,
Foolish that my heart even dared.
She stared at me blankly, eyes of ice,
and froze away all my entice.

Don't talk to me now, I need some space,
Cheaters are not allowed to finish the race.
As you walked out, I hoped for an ending hug,
I got an apathetic no and an ample shrug.

I know I have no one to blame but me,
And now I am stuck wondering about all that could be.
These eight days, no other way I would spend,
and it hurts to see our dance come to an end.