As a flag, left to the ravages of wind and sun,
so too my soul, stands tattered and ravaged.
My visage now a faded memory
of once courageous colors.
My voice no longer crisp, nor upbeat.
But weak and undefined.
No longer do I instill nor evoke,
a sense of power or purpose.

I am easily dismissed as useless, unnecessary.

Yes, once I was the strong flag,
that laughed in the wind with a quick
snap and whip crack determination.

That was years and many storms ago.
Now, I give into the wind,
with a defeated wave
and the sound of a sigh.

religion is dead
but the taste of butterscotch still lingers in my mouth.

I know it's freezing outside.
that's why I want you to hold me so bad,
it doesn't matter if it's you, it could be anyone,
but I know you need it just as much as I do.

I want to read you something
a little more meaningful than
a grocery list, and I want you to
smile more, but I want nothing to do with it.

I'm more situational than you seem to notice,
and I like how we can sit quiet and listen to nothing,
but I'd much rather hear your voice through the
haze of tension that seems to follow us, rather than
watch you sit alone on a welcome mat for depression.

I love you is a funny way of saying I love you,
but none of us really know what it means until
we know what it means, and I know how bad it
hurts when we lose what it means, but I'm sure
we'll find it again. Even if we have to be patient,
and scream a little, and **** someone worthless.

For what it's worth or how much you care,
I want you to know that I care, even if it's
only enough to dodge questions and push
boundaries and cross some t's or some lines.

You give me cold feet and hot cheeks,
but in the friendliest of ways.

Left to our own devices,
what mischief can we find?
Some trouble to get into,
a worm inside my mind.
Climb up a tree,
or better a cliff!
Boo, not enough danger,
only a whiff.
Lets make a fire,
down in the wood.
Then put in gas canisters,
explosions are good!
Barely a bang,
what a waste of a fire,
so we run throught the flames,
like it's our funeral pyre!
Take the big knife,
thrown back and fore,
if I make Andrew  duck,
it raises my score.
Found a long rope,
that means some fun!
I'll be trussed up and dangled,
so off I will run.
Time to go home now,
off to our bed.
We're both over 40,
but still kids in our head.