I am no toymaker, I know this,
yet one day I found a small toy car
left on my doorstep with a simple note:
"Try and fix me."
I'm no toymaker, but I tried anyway.
I saw there was a wheel broken,
a door off its hinges, and an engine
that needed replacing. I am no toymaker,
but I tried my best to find these parts,
but I stopped before I switched them out
because I realized I was changing it.
I am no toymaker, but I know you shouldn't
change people; that only they can change themsleves,
and that's what I feared.
How am I to fix something, if it won't change?
I am no toymaker, so maybe I'm missing something,
but if I can not change out this broken wheel,
place new hinges on that door, or a new
engine to make it pur, how can I fix it?
I am no toymaker, I know this,
but I still battled rivers and mountains alone,
talked with Atlas to give up the Earth,
but Atlas wouldn't listen and I told myself
it was because I was trying to change him
like a little toy car I once tried to fix.
I am no toymaker, but don't say I didn't try.

A wise man once told me:
"All relationships have their life span"
We can't force a time period on them
They are guided only by fate's hand

Ours lived and died in its time
When I wanted it to live on forever
I wanted to conquer life with you
I wanted to face it together

Fate decided ours in its time
And I can say that I never knew
And after all of this time only I can say
That, honestly, I think of you

It's not that you consume my thoughts
I am still happy on any given day
But I see you even though it appears that I don't
And I instinctively look the other way

I can't face you directly
So, instead, I just look at my shoes
Although everyone has repeatedly said
To not care at all about you

But some part of me wonders
If you hear me thinking out loud
And if you still look onward
To see my face in a crowd

The way I look at you two
Is like a sweet syrupy luster
That coats and envelops you both
Like a dream of only the most divine

My heart bursts with how I feel
For both of you
And I can't quite articulate how I feel
Out loud without breaking into tears

I know already of the missing I will do:
I will miss you both
I will miss living here
I will miss you asking me if I'm going to bed soon
When I am staying up late doing homework
I will miss car rides talking
I will miss laughing with you
I will miss being close to you
I will miss crude humor
I will miss piano lessons
I will miss home cooked dinners
I will miss sitting on your bed at three in the morning asking advice
I will miss your laugh that resonates throughout a room
I will miss his smile
I will miss his stubborn ways of tying railroad spikes to everything
To keep them in place
I will miss the "Do you need a rides?"
The "Is there anything I can do to help?"'s
I will miss the way you make me feel better
Even after the worst day of my life
I will miss the bond we share

And even though you will only be a phone call away
I will miss *us

What a dark time it's been,
no dreams to fill this void.
I don't need them when I'm with you.
You make me forget the lost hours,
the blank darkness, the cold silence.
I no longer wake because the sun rises,
but merely because I must see you.
          You may never know that
          your laugh makes me smile,
          your smile keeps me warm,
          your touch drives me crazy,
          your eyes hold me tight and
          your arms house me.
               You may never know;
               that's okay --
               I'm the quiet type.

Little boy praying at the shore,
do you not realize what you have done?
That flower, soft red petals and sharp thorns,
freshly picked and found home in your hands --
you tossed it into that achingly slow creek.
Little boy you must've known
that a flower like that would float away;
Yet here you kneel, tired eyes searching for it
and a hoarse voice calling out a name.
Little boy you could've stopped this.
Fingers were meant to hold things dear
yet it slipped, and you used them to point.
Feet were meant to bring people together
yet you watched, sitting, while it slowly washed away.
Little boy, what if I told you a secret?
That flower, with broken stem and burnt leaves,
held onto a passing rock and waited.
It waited for you to fight for it, but you didn't,
so that flower let go, drifting slowly away,
listening to the cries of a Little boy who could have.