Maybe someday you'll be lonely and understand how to be a friend.
Maybe you'll give me a call.
Maybe I'll pick up or maybe I'll have a new friend.

I don't want to write about you anymore
and maybe I'll stop.
It's not a question of what happens on my side but a question of what happens on yours.

sweet bright eyes, what can i say?
i wouldn't lie to you if i told you that your light led me down this way.
sweet amber eyes, why can't i stay?
maybe it's better that my heart is nothing more than your prey.

celestial, copper eyes, with lashes that shadow like a veil,
a stare, a glare, physique that could never compare.
lustrous, luminous eyes with the allure of a panther,
it didn't take long to see your eyes bore the answer.

i shake and shiver.
sweet brown eyes, make my soul quiver.
serrated lashes that stab like knives;
sweet bright eyes,
become my soul's reprise

My heart has many rooms,
I occupy but a few.
The rest go unvisited.
Till the light began to flicker on
and I've discovered a new part of me.
Take my hand,
lead me through the mazes of hallways.
Show me the rooms,
I've constructed for you.
Inhabit it.
Feed it with your passion of life.
Till my heart is lit ablaze from it.
Light each room with your warmth.

Make my heart into our home.

Silently, "I need to tell you something."
I approach. Falter, walk away.

I need to break this bond I have with silence,
This unhealthy affair I have with solitude.

I haven't even the energy to pull the words up from my stomach.
I heave,
Retching out nothing but bile and air.

I have so many things to say,
Passing fruitlessly through the space between my ears.

Speaking of space, that seams to be where I exist.
It's either that, or this is Purgatory.

Hell.
Too much conscience to be clinically depressed,
Too far gone to be "normal",
Nothingness.

"This is what it feels like to be a ghost."
To no one, again.