There was a ******* the bus
with a face like an angel
pure white
brilliant white
and eyes that showed a century’s memory
Her hair
like her manner
was soft and natural
and her mouth cried out to be kissed
No body could, though,
kiss that mouth
They tried
but still she was left alone
looking like an angel and slightly dead.

The soft burning candle flame
dripping liquid wax,
melting
as the passion scolds those
too bold and free.
A pressed moment;
bodies pressed together
- communion.

Like meat-machines *******…
is that what you said?
(are you dead? and if not,
why am I talking to the sky?)

I hope someone was shot today
at four forty-seven *** em
somebody famous
with a famous death
I know where I was right then
(for once)
I don’t know where I was
when Kennedy got it
and I don’t know where I was
when Martin King went
(all I know is I wasn’t here)
I think I know where I was
when Lennon walked his last
(eating Weetabix eight years old)
and I know where I was today.
At four forty-seven *** em
I was ******* tomato seeds from a picture
of Doctor Thompson’s face.

There is a change—and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart’s door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.

What happy moments did I count!
Blest was I then all bliss above!
Now, for that consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I? shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden well.

A well of love—it may be deep—
I trust it is,—and never dry:
What matter? if the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
—Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.

If I had an inch I'd give you a mile
If you were a frown I'd give you a thousand smiles
I'd give you the world if you asked
But all I want you to have is my heart

I'll write you a song if that's what you want
Then tear it all up if you don't
I'll show you my mind and give you my heart
Just promise you won't rip it apart

I want to know how you are
I want to know your heart and soul
Your voice is a work of art
I wish you could be mine to hold

I never could move on from your eyes
They'd haunt me wherever I go
Quitting isn't always so bad
When giving up on the impossible

Honestly I'd be crazy not to love you
Although the effect seems the same either way
I have dreams of spending forever with you
I wonder if you'd want to stay?

I splashed in the puddles
for the first time in my life
and tried to be careless.

Like the child I used to be.

All things come to an end.
Childhood,
and the rain,
and now, it feels like
the past four years
have passed away like this storm.

It didn't have to die.
Now it feels like I'm the next one
who has to.

Quietus.

Or another synonym for death.

I still need you.
Like the child that clung to
the carelessness that died so long ago.

Would you think me insane
If I were to tell you that you have set me free
That knowing you has taught me
About who I am meant to be?

Something I thought long since dead
Deep inside myself
Was awakened when you looked at me
Like there was no one else

A renewed sense of who I am
Invigorates the soul
I now believe in fairy tales
And love I do extol

It is not a passing breeze of caring
More like a hurricane-force wind
That knocks you over and lifts you up
Like you're flying from within

Two hearts connected silently
Across a million miles
Melancholy fades away
With just the memory of a smile

How can it be that circumstance
Deals such a cruel, cruel hand
To temper fated torture
Almost too much to withstand

For in a love so consuming
That it is laden in every breath
Forced to live so separately
Is a torment worse than death

For at least in death can be found Heaven
Or if we're guilty, can be found Hell
But even hell, if I am with you,
Can be called Heaven very well