The old wives tale,
Taught of the power of love,
Breathe a word,
Enchant it with lust.

Say it aloud,
A million times,
Death will be powerless,
In front of its might.

So we the fools,
So smitten by us,
Believed our destiny,
Was together as one,
A shining star that lit the night,
And pointed north to the sailors in flight.

We said it, we sang it, we even danced,
We prayed aloud to Aphrodite's love,
We believed our forever, was forever ours,
Eternity, always, was a minute apart.

But beauty is haunting,
In Dolos's backyard,
The god of trickery,
Has made words his art.

Love in hate,
And hate in lust,
Together is painful,
Yet so is staying apart.

Forgiveness repeated,
Repeated faux pas,
In passion we yielded,
We yielded our passion for us.

Those words were planted,
Etched forever in our hearts,
As our souls crafted,
An escape plan without us.

What the future may hold,
For us without you,
In a sailing ship above,
We'll always be two.

We broke the norms,
The shackles that kept us home,
But our love was too strong,
More than what two bodies could hold.

We tried to share that ebbing love,
But instead what we shared,
Was just a purification of lust.

Dyslexic, I know the mistake to be my own,
Lust above love,
Who thought bodies could have such hold.

Bare skinned, bare souled,
Our shadows dance on a star above,
Away from earthly lust,
On a planet where there's only love.

Your heart on your sleeve,
Summer's when you took off that coat.
But winter will come,
The heart will drink that sour wine called hope.
Love will be with you, it will never let go,
It's floating out there, finding a body to call home.

Babbling brook bickers,
The silent lake is asleep,
Judge depth not by voice.

She enters the cafe,
As smooth as death.
She was a presence,
Less seen more felt.

The room went quite,
But that wasn't new.
She was the bringer of silence,
The harbinger of gloom.

She scaled in the corners,
She never wore a smile,
Yet her teeth were visible,
Shining ever so bright.

A hint of icy chill,
As people look around,
The tinge on their neck,
Instinct is on the lookout.

A coffee to go she pleads,
Pulling out exact change,
The cashier doesn't look up,
Why, he cannot say.

She slides away so quietly,
The haunted place grows bright,
Alone yet again,
This life offers no respite.

She's been alone forever,
Taking those in her path,
Her kiss is transitional,
She always leaves a mark.

She's had so many names,
She often forgets her own,
Misery, melancholy, sorrow,
Are only a few of those.

Depression is what she goes by,
Always on the move,
She's quite easy to identify,
But it's easier for people not to look.

A country lobbed with hate and fear,
Boundaries created as love disappears,
Broken dreams and broken homes,
Where colour divides, and sentiments too.

Movies lie, as do books,
This is no land of the free,
No freedom to even hope.

You're always an outsiders,
The man with papers,
Your identity a form,
Subjected to reform.

You're looked at with suspicion,
As a timer ticks over your head,
You're pushed into submission,
There's no home for you here to be made.

But as voices echo,
It's time to reflect,
There's no time to wallow,
No time to feel regret.

Push forward as one,
With the voice of the many,
Injustice is won,
In a chorus and symphony.

That yellow flower sprouts afar,
On this cold winter's day,
The inspired sight and colour bright,
Spring seems to be at bay.

She hops along, this cobbled walk,
In a pretty yellow beret.
The world her muse, she seems infused,
The Robin marking spring's way.

Long ago I found hope,
In a distant place called home,
People talked of wondrous things,
Like Unicorns and magic beings.

I dreamed of home long ago,
A place that I could call my own,
Where fantasies came to life,
And we lived without any deadlines.

Home was sweet, and a little sour,
It tasted like butterbear in Harry Potter,
It was always new and never got old,
It was where flavours came to explore.

Always safe, never alone,
Home was more than the people it would hold,
Always larger on the inside than out,
It was a magician's trick, without his pout.

I miss my home, I miss it's feel,
But it wasn't a building, or anything concrete,
Nor the people, who made it whole,
It feels a little funny, even saying so.

Home was always a vision to me,
A complex web of ethereal beings,
Home was made of paper dolls,
Not meant to be played with,
But just looked at from afar.

Even now for me it's cold,
Home is a memory just not mine to hold,
Perfect, delicate and out of reach to all,
Home is never mine, nor could it be yours.

All I hope is to find my neighbour,
Someone as lost with a hope to wander,
We'll play this game and pretend to be,
A family as whole as an empty nest can be.

Button eyed and cotton filled,
We'll compliment each other and forever be filled,
With the yearning thought of finding our home,
We'll live together while always being alone.