Tell Them
My Sweetheart
That I never wanted a funeral
But it was only
For tradition

Tell Them
Not to cry
Not to mourn
But rather
Sit in a circle, knee to knee
And share stories of me with them
Bad ones
Good ones
All of them so that I am seen
Even after death
As an imperfect human being

Tell them
To wear black skirts and no makeup
And high spiked boots
With skull rings
And silver chains
So that they remember my dark side

Tell Them
Not to miss me
Not the slightest
And instead
Await the day
They can see me again
If they pray I make it to heaven

Tell Them
To tell me their stories once in a while
I like a good laugh
I like a short smile
But even if not
They can tell me their doubts
And I'll listen
Because I love voices that talk to me
And reveal a journey

And when They bury me
Will you all pray
That I end up safe
Many many miles away
Away from you all
But still in your hearts
I'll be sewn
As tightly as my
Pursed, frowned lips

Tell Them
Sweetheart
That I never
Left
(because I was always right)

My eyes droop
To the sound
Of the night caving in
And the lights dimming out

My vision clogs
With grogginess and
The mistakes I made today
And the ones I will make tomorrow

So I smile
Because the future isn't certain
And I like mysteries and all,
But one thing is for sure
That every night, before I am consumed by sleep
My eyelids will be imprinted
With your angelic face
Burned into them

And another thing
Although I will make more mistakes tomorrow
I still have you
And that can only mean
That I'll also do something right

And with that
My mind is filled
With fog and clouds and smells
Of days and nights
And a smile tattoos my tired face
Form the memory
Of you

Can you see
Beyond my eyes
And deep into my soul
Where the truth really lies?

Can you hear the voices
Whispering in my mind
Reminding me
That I'm running out of time?

Can you feel
My slow beating heart
Deprived of love
And falling apart?

Or do you just see
The face I put on
Of no emotion
Of no lively song?

I rather you look
Beyond the eyes
Beyond the lies
To the messed up being
I really am
Yet beside me
Is where you still stand.

If I ever told you
That in my heart
I carry a stone
Weighing down my feelings and hatred
Would you so kindly believe me?

If I ever told you
That sometimes
I cry too
Because I can't make sense of anything
Not anyone
Would you wipe away my tears?

If I ever told you
That I need you
To tell all of these things to
The ones that weigh down my chest
Would you ever listen?

Maybe
Just a one-in-a-million maybe
You would
But

If I ever told you
That you'd never be able to lift the stone
That it's been on too long
Would you still try?

I guess I don't know
I guess it doesn't matter
Because, baby, as long as your happy
I never want to tell you
What's on my mind
And ruin your smile

I guess I shouldn't care
I'll just be here alone
And watch you smile
From the corner of my eye
Pretending I'm fine

And singing to myself
*"If I ever, if I ever..."

The wind howls
outside my bedroom window
shaking me
my heart; my soul

it screams
while you sit there
drinking sweet-smelling coffee
a baby boy in Africa
cries of hunger
and aching ribs.

while you are curled up
under warm and soft blankets
an old and lonely man
wanders the darkest streets
looking for warmth;
a home

while you hide there
surrounded by light and family
with an aura of ungratefulness
you are lost in the rays of your technologies
with a frown on your angelic face
when a weeping woman
shakes and prays
for her gone children to reach Heaven happily
but you dare forget God to a screen?

my house shakes
from Wind's agonizing words
and a streak of cold
trickles into my haven
along with the words
"what am I doing?"

somehow
my stiff legs reach
a window
and the arms in front of me
pull it open
to reveal no sound at all

where is the wind?
did he leave just as
he touched
my heart; my soul
making me waver?
or does a gust not howl ,
speak,
and isn't heard?

no
the wind was here
for how else did the once-twinkling snowflakes
suddenly freeze
and lose all of their beauty?

no one but Wind
would take the innocence
of such young and beautiful white specks
just as they landed
in this cold,
dark world

no one but Wind
would flare you with reality
enough to make you cry with obliviousness
for this wind; my Wind
he is the voice off all those
who have faced
life's stinging brutality;
him
instead of
hiding under covers
and whispering morbid lies
that
everything is okay