They say that the eyes are windows to the soul,
And the soul holds all the secrets,
And secrets are something that we keep to ourselves,
So maybe if I were a light ray I’d penetrate the eyes,
And discover your secrets,
Because maybe you love me too and have kept it to yourself,
Then if I knew about your love for me I’d reveal mine,
And maybe just for once the universe would break its rules,
So like Snow White and the Prince we would live happily ever after,
And maybe our love would be a secret and you’ll keep it deep within the wells of your soul,
And you’ll keep it close to you wherever you may go,
Or maybe I’ll be your secret and you’ll have be inside you,
And hold me close to your heart,
So I can hear the sound of your heartbeat,
Or the sound of your heart,
And know if you love me,
But all these things are like my childhood imagination,
And there’s no way for me to find out if you love me,
Other than you opening up,
But if you do love me too,
You won’t believe my love for you is true,
So my love will be a hypothesis;
Something I’ll have to prove,
But I’d do anything to be your secret,
But I’ve got to step down from the stars back to earth,
And realize that your love for me holds a question mark after it.

You walked into my life
At a perfect entrance
When I needed someone
To guide me along

You showed me the way
Hand in hand we stayed
Your smile gave me hope
You made my world glitters

You gave me so much happiness
My heart  was then for you
Your heart was then for  me
You’ve given me total reality

But the future wasn’t ours
It’s not our mistake after all
Our fate never meant  to be
And  I was the  one who quit

Now you’re the one
Who needed someone this time
May someone come along
To heal your broken  heart

I don’t think you realize you have me completely,
body and soul.
And you could just feed me
all of the lies in the world
and I wouldn’t complain
because it’d be you
saying them.
And most would say that’s unhealthy.
And it is.
But I take
what I can get,
because I can’t get
much better
than you honey.

She had blurry grey eyes
and hair that tangled like vines.
In a house by a highway.

The house was old
with red shutters
that never shut anymore.

She pulled on her hat.
Her shoes were stained black.
And she left the house by a highway.

The sky was cloudy.
The side walk was wet.
It was a easy walk to the drug store.

The drug store has been there
for about twenty five years.
A ten minute walk from a house
by a highway.

She lays a five on the counter.
A coffee in one hand.
She leaves and makes her way to a bridge.

The guard rails were cold
as she leans over to get a view
of the water that surrounds her.

A house by a high way
stands there alone.
Waiting for the girl with grey eyes to get back.

The girl takes out a letter.
Flips it around in her hands.
She lets out a sigh,
then let’s the letter fly.

She watches it floats into the water.
A minute more she stays
takes a sip of coffee and listens
to the bird song she has been missing
for so many years.

She closes her eyes
leaves the bridge and is on her way.
Back to a house by a highway.

The fanciful girl with hair in curlers
laughs at her inverted existence.

We dream to make the world more interesting,
her only moral absolute.

The plastic diamond necklaces
are chains around her neck,
red lipstick is a garish neon sign
erected for the benefit of the blind.

All the red silk scarves in the world
can't buy the attention
of the one you want.

The child in the mirror laughs;
she is not yet accustomed
to my particular brand of self-denial.

For her, each slight glance is a tender caress.
She passes unnoticed for pages,
fading carefully from view.

Each mention is a resurrection,
a new life for the invisible girl
who wears her red dress
as an advertisement.

I am a paper girl.

I apologize too quickly,
sending rushed sorries as
the response to imagined offenses,
as if to cancel out my existence.

I am white and pale and blank
as an unstained sheet of paper--
pure only in the most superficial manner.

My coloring marks a lack of creativity,
a "promising future,"
devoid even of the virtue
found in failed attempts.

I am flat and two-dimensional,
my surface marred
only by the unwanted sensation
of crackling loneliness.