Slapped on. Pajamas.
Cold roof. Rising moon.
Neighbors drinking something in blue plastic cups.
Laughter.
I'm laughing. I'm on the floor in tears.
But you don't think its funny.
The night has aged.
It's a new day...
But you are treating it like yesterday.
I'm your best friend,
but you don't seem to think so.
You walk away into the aging day.
I say goodnight and drive away.

The feeble pretense of you & I will no longer prevail.
My obtuse mind must be mended immediately.
And I will still drink coffee, a little un-stirred. The first sip a sugar rush...
I will still see you in the words of my books.
I will smell you on my sweater sleeves.
You will always be kept on the outskirts of my cerebrum. Dancing past the delicate fields of emotion, where the wild peonies reside.
And you will never find your way in.
I'll make absolutely
quite
sure of it.

You want me.
Again, you do.
You tease me...
Let me follow a trail of bread crumbs.
Leading me to a blithing darkness of nothingness.
And a skip along.
I lag on,
Singing your praises.
I do.
You want me,
You said you do.

I do hope everything goes as arranged.

As it is but a delusion sometimes,
everything in this obscured brain 'o mine.  
(Yes, I hope it works out.) :::
Maybe, somehow.
Sigh
Life has it's way of being a schmuck.  

Perhaps, we could live in our heads. Die in our beds. Become ghost and bobble around hospital beds, secretly trying to make the living better and happier.
Because we are virtuous ghost.
Quite content with being so.
And I'd be happy, if you are happy.
And if you are sad, I am eminently sorry you became a ghost bobbling around hospital beds,
secretly trying to make
the living
happier,
better
and all of those ethical, virtuous
things.

Given you everything,
I have done.
Still,
You do not see it.
I turn up the volume,
a little louder.
I'm minutes away from a suicide rope
this is not an exaggeration.
you are not inside my body.
not inside my soul
you do not feel my pain.
see my thoughts, nor
dwell in them.
I cannot continue,
For my love, I cannot.
My body is giving up.
My heart is giving up.
Although I've given them to you (years ago)
you do not have it anymore.
and I cannot do this.
this doesn't feel like love.
this is pain.
You do not see the burning *** of gold, boiling in my heart.
it is for you, my love. for you.
but you must know, that I am weak.
bleeding. in need.
But you will not come to my aid.
and I am on the floor.
But I cannot be rescued.
When will it be? For it will never be.

My love, I cannot be anymore.

Regret is the street I dwell on.
And sorrow hangs it's face at my door.
I wish I wouldn't have made mistakes.
But I cannot take it back anymore.
And I lay awake with a troubled soul...
My heart is always attacked.
I should've been your secret keeper,
Your best friend at all hours.

But I didn't possess much power...

I was a lost spirit. A whimpering soul.
I always thought you'd see it.
But now your spirit has left my body, and the cord that linked our hearts together...
Has torn my heart in your departure.
I wish I wouldn't have done what I did.
I wish I could take it back.
But in the wee hours of night fall, when the ghost partake in dances,
I'll remember how much I loved you. I'll remember your embrace.
I'll remember the tiny kisses you left on my neck, arm and face.

Their are spider webs in this court room.
I feel as though I am entangled in one. But the sunlight peeked through, making them invisible. Almost sheer.
I wear a simple dress. Cream. Not white, for it is for purity...

I am not pure.

Cranberry lips, messy hair...
My mind has nowhere to go.  
You take my hand. The papers are signed.
There is no riding off into the sunset. It's just drifting in rushing current.
I am all yours.


Til' death do us part.