What if,
Life is counted in the sky,
Or Humanity was meant for Goodbye's?

What if,
The sun and the moon did have a lullaby,
And we separated the eye's?

What if,
Night and Day was taught how to pray?
Would the earth be swayed by grace?

What if,
Our determination was devoted to His,
Salvation?

When today's burden weighs you down-
To the bottom of Hell's ground.

Know that I will be waiting on the bay,
Wishing for Sunday.

I sit in my chair studying the mirror-
starring at the figures outside the square.

Day by day the world changes outside your gates.
May, June, and July dancing while they pass by.

The birds singing to the morning bells-
ringing a spell in the ears of farewells.

The houses are filled with life-
telling stories of family glories.

The world is different through your eyes.
I feel hidden from creation-
not touched by fiction.

Is this an illusion
or is it just me being human?

To many times,
I have confessed my sins by your side.

Too often,
they are forgotten.

Do you even notice the hand print stains upon your face?
Or the blackened space were my tears have fallen?

For even a priest will send me with lie,
or release me with a goodbye.

Your two sided eyes
reflect your two sided mind.

You show me a reality
without the apple tree.

You blind me with jewels
and take me for a fool.

No longer will I sit and stare at the underworld.
For the flames may be there, but I rather taste it in the air.

Amongst beautiful pansies and roses she stood,
Picked for her mother the most stunning rose she could.

Her mother would always say the flower had pleased,
That it was the most beautiful rose her eyes would ever meet.

"Darling, thank you for this sweet offering,
Should the next person you give such beauty to be the man you are sure to be your king."

And years later she has kept her promise,
To her king she will offer a rose a kiss.

Which is why today you are the person who holds my heart,
And I offer you this rose, in hope that never shall we part.

The forest holds many things.

Animals, fruits, a cool breeze,
but also the memories of an old man who used to run amongst the leaves.

Those memories he remembers and not one word he would get wrong, he remembers it as well as the words of a song.

In the winter, he would feel the sting of the cold air, contemplated by the beautiful snow at which he could not help but stare.

When came spring, he would run and laugh and jump and scream, drunk on the scent of flowers and the light the sun would beam.

Every summer, the hot sun would bring out his melanin, and to his content, the birds would sing.

At fall, he would lie in the fallen leaves and look at the sky, thinking of all of the new things and ideas he was willing to try.

What I'm saying is, the forest is not just pleasing aesthetics, it is the beautiful memories of every person that has stood in its mist.

If my body was as broken of my heart,
there would be a million pieces of me everywhere.
If I was my heart, I would have scars all over,
I would be bleeding all over.
As if heartbreak wasn't serious,
I would be visiting the doctor on a daily bases.
If I were my heart,
I would be big but feel so small.
I would have trouble deciding my morals,
and I would have an attack every time I see your face.
I I where my heart,
I would struggle to keep fighting,
to keep breathing.
If I were my heart,
I would be dead.
I would be gone,
because she had my heart,
it was never returned.
I would be kept under lock and key,
not seeing a peek of daylight.
If I were my heart,
I would have cracks all over my body,
and one little sneeze would crash me down to dust.
If I were my heart.
Oh if I was.
I'd day after every mean comment.
I would melt at the sight of beauty,
and I would never let myself go.
Oh,
If I were my heart.