If i could weave the words of love for you on a fabric, the unending stitching of your name will be fluent in the language of my heart's rose is lighted with the devotion of your glance that is ablaze, touch me closer now, oh brooding one of the night, for I am your moon with the healing light.

I tell myself lies
To protect my ego
Twist what I know
Ignore the bruise on my pride
I tell myself lies
You enjoy my poetry
You feel very flattered by me
You may not care to see
Or even know me
But I tell myself lies
I pretend to believe

The girl with the ginger hair
I saw her in my dream
Like an angel from the heavens
Eyes green like the wild
and
Hair flowing in the wind

I hope she remembers me when i’m gone

The Girl With The Ginger Hair

A familiar longing haunts me,
for a face I've never seen,
a body I've never held
and a mind I've never known.

Dear stranger,
I have never met you before
never seen you smile
never held your hands
never looked in your eyes

To me, you are just a stranger
nothing else at all
then why do you
not feel like a stranger at all?

I have never seen your face before
never seen your eyes
yet I feel like I know
your soul
and everything inside

So tell me, why is this so
is it because we are
not strangers at all..?

In your dreams
you're a different person
could it be this-
that you prefer that version?

This is the perennial bane:
much of life is unsettled
an unwelcome  situation
faced by most people