The unknown faces,
It's always the unknown faces.
I'm petrified to say hi,
What would they think.

Who am I?
Really, who am I?
I've known me for 30 years,
But I'm surprised everytime I meet myself.

Now I've known you,
The melancholy of us.
We were perfectly depressed,
But happy together is unknown.

Who are you?
I've seen you so often.
You were my shoulder,
And I yours, but who are we now?

Dry eyed I don't really know you,
Hi I'm happy.
I've known you,
But I'd love to really meet you.

As much beauty,
In her shadows,
As in her light,
New York hides nothing.

There truly is no magic,
As the magic,
Of walking down Broadway at 2am
And feeling like it's 4 in the afternoon.

It ***** you in,
And draws your breath away.
The city's a siren,
Ever luring, ever lovely.

You can lose you heart,
To New York and in New York.
But rest be sure,
She will break you,
Before she loves you.

So hold your breath,
And do as always done.
Make that promise,
The eternal vow,
More powerful than any I do,
And say, 'till we meet again'.
For it's never a goodbye.

I miss the monster under my bed,
My confidant, my best friend.
I miss the loud tapping on the floor,
The banging doors in an empty home.

I miss the peaceful sleep,
In the haunted home,
Where curtains moved,
Without the help of the wind.

I miss the fear of senseless things,
The haunting beats that made me sing.
I miss the irrational fears and frights,
The ghosts in sheets that I seek to find.

For now my fears don't go away,
With just the cover of the sheets.
The beasts are real and hauntingly so,
They dare to even call you on the phone.

They live on mails and in machines,
Manifesting into unrealistic realities.
In timelines and deadlines and charts of sorts,
The monsters sometimes take human forms.

They sympathise and empathise,
And sometimes even shed a tear.
They tell you how to live your life,
And **** you with every word.

I miss the monster under my bed,
My confidant, my best friend.

A side bar with myself,
A conversation lost between mes',
Heaven conversing with the ground below,
I found poetry in the distance.

Those three steps were the longest,
An eternity between each leap,
A sonet written between each pace,
Poetry at its best.

You held me together,
You broke me loose,
You added semblance,
To a chaotic world.

But words are cruel,
Like the whips of hades,
A slash, a ****,.
And you destroyed me completely.

I love you, I'm scared,
I'm not too proud to admit it,
Yet that's my flaw,
My undoing in this escapade.

I'm losing you,
I'm losing me,
I can't be what I should be.

Just one more step,
A left or right,
It'll make all the difference,
Between poetry sung or to recite.

I'm weak I fear,
That's why you'll read these words,
A tragedy,
Isn't always with physical casualties.

Candle lit dinner,
She was not herself,
Yawn, he was.

Those bridge​s.
Defiant, sure and ******.
The red lines defined by every move, every emotion, every tear drop.
Her eyes spoke the stories, if only he knew how to read.

My hair and I don't talk anymore.
It's really quite sad because we were quite insightful together.
But now, the long mop is growing awry.
He no longer complements me.
He's made a mockery of my style.
My hair, I can safely say, hates me.

We tried counseling at the nearby parlor,
The counselor goes by the name of the barber.
he chopped at the problems and tried to make things right.
But the difference grew right back.
My hair's indifference to me is blinding.
I mean, I literally can't see!

We decided it was time to spice things up.
Bring back some excitement. By bringing another in the equation.
The gel, our saviour. The hero of our time.
This ******* was love unlike any other kind.

The moral of this story, is still a bit hairy.
Sort of like why beauty fell for the beast.