A bluebird chirps.
Chirps "Put it down."
So I did.
A bluebird,
Saved my life that day.

Four blocks of ice concealed in a cylindrical prison,
cubes-- they're so imperfectly not.
An eclectic mixture now gone,
empty drinks sweating circles on wood.
The owners in mismatched homes
of strangers well known.
Four blocks of ice saw it all,
saddened only when they lose the last drops they keep cold.

These days the cold
doesn't seem so cold

I still feel it, but I 've learned
to enjoy the feeling
of cold air in my lungs,
punctuating the
drags on my cigarette

                    This time last year I
                    was trying to drink
                    myself to death

Now I drink to mock death, and I'm
                    sitting in the corner with a notebook
                    and a whiskey
                    listening to some country band play
                    songs from sixty years ago

While so many of my friends are quitting the drink-
I guess this business of dancing with death every night
isn't for everyone. . .

                                   But the morning keeps coming
                                   with bright lights to
                                   hurt our eyes and
                                   clear our mind

And we keep on with the same old dance
Round and round, you step left, I step right
and we joke about how nobody here
        really knows what they're doing

And we all just keep on dancing

I used to find pain
Behind every withered memory
Hiding under every word
Creeping alongside my laughter
But I have been opened
And the pain that lingered inside
Has taken flight like a startled crow
A black shadow against the black night
I appear to have been opened
And sweet things are trickling in
Where the pain used to be
They fill my soul
Not make it deeper
They touch my wounds
But do not hurt them
These sweet things that taste of honey
Smell of spring
And look like life
Repair my withered memories
Enhance my every word
And laugh alongside me
I don't know what the sweet things are
But they grow on me
And do not consume me
Now I have forgotten the pain
I remember what the sweet things are
They aren't love, they aren't happiness
They are little pieces of **velvet stars

If you say that you're fine,
But really you're shaking.
Playing it cool,
When your whole world is breaking.
Say you're all alone,
Thinking nobody cares.
I'll stick around and listen.
For you, I'll be there.