the devil always comes back for his demons

When I dance I feel alive
I feel the rhythm in my bones
I feel the beat in sync with myself
I feel my heart beat faster
My body moves with passion
I feel like there is something special
Something noticeable about me
When I step onto the dance floor
I feel like myself, completely

I've learned that no matter how many coins you throw into a fountain or how many fingers you cross, you cannot make someone love you and neither can superstition

2. Almost is the worst way to love someone and if you cannot do it whole heartedly, you should not do it at all

3. I've learned that you cannot trust the things your heart tells you when it's sad

4. I've learned what it feels like to have my throat tighten a little every time I talk about you and I've learned what it feels like to taste pennies in my mouth every time I say your name

5. I've learned that you cannot always be a love story, sometimes you have to make yourself a bridge worth burning

6. Loneliness is when you lay down at night and your ceiling burns with rage because it is only looking at one person

7. I've learned how to know if you really love someone because you don’t give people the power to destroy you that you don't love

8. And I've learned that even if you know it is coming, you can never prepare yourself for how it feels

I feel sad
I feel that my life isn't complete
My life is missing something indeed
Is it friends that I lack
Or something materialistic perhaps?
Now that I have thought it through
I have everything but love is what I need too
Now I know that this feeling of desolation deep down inside
Comes from not seeing you

I never felt safe in my own house.
Could never climb the stairs without
nervous glancing, gazelle fleeing.
Could never turn off the lights
without another light beckoning in the distance
to guide me to safety like a white moth to flame.
His voice still echoes in the dining room,
I never fixed the holes he punched in the walls.
I don't know how to fix the ruins he's made,
To undo the damages he's done,
So for me,
This home will forever be haunted.

The monk shows me the scar
where he took the bullet
the 70s fiery rebel
is now a Shiva-ite by faith.

I try to see in his eyes
remnant of youth’s spark
believing the fire never dies
from time now buried in the dark.

The March wind blows the dust
banyan trunks make a cool shade
in the lull he relieves a past
no way could he obliterate.

A time was I held a gun
the police was hot on my trail
day night I was on the run
in the pride of being a rebel.

Cast shadows an eerie silence
now evening could no longer wait
I wave to him from a distance
Shiva waits on him to meditate.