He opened
his mouth
and love
letters
came
out* ~

Fill up the tub with warm
water. Rose petals , leaves
and other flowers that
bloom in the season
of spring.

Slide in next to me. Collide
with my soul and let me
make you feel whole as the fun begins.

Relax and let the nervousness
drown out of your bones.

Come into my arms as that
should make you feel calm
and home.

Let the flowers caress your
skin gently as our limbs tangle
up the way vines do simply
on the gates of our backyard
and heavens doors.

Let me massage your shoulders
as I kiss your collar bones
passionately.

This is how our lives will be
from now on when you leave
work and come back home.

We'll begin to hum our
favorite melody as we drench
our souls in delicate kisses.
While the petals touch our
skin and blush in the tub.

And we start to softly giggle
and moan as we crave for
much more* ~

The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with a pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.

The old piano plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her head inclines this way.

Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list -- -
The twilight turns to darker blue
With lights of amethyst.

Cigarettes.
Pills.
Newspaper clippings.
Governmental conspiracy books.
No friends.
No family.
No food.
No water.
Just lying in the dark,
day after day,  
Until your heart gave out.

I have documented proof in the form of bills, bank statements, and autopsy reports that this was what the last years of your life were like.

I now lie awake in the same room where I figure you must have spent all of your time,
looking at the ceiling,
wondering if it was the last thing you saw.


I have felt myself become increasingly anti-social, bitter, violent, cold, paranoid, critical and reclusive over the years,
and I know that if I let myself continue to slip away,
I will end up just like you,
in this same room,
staring at the same ceiling,
with my face that looks just like yours,
with nothing to comfort me except for the fading memories of the love I like to think I once felt.


There were ten thousand books in this house the first time I came to see it,
piled high in every room,
ghosts in the ashes between every page...


I'm scared,
but you were the one who taught me to take pride in the land I live on,
so I will turn it into something beautiful,
and I won't let this place be haunted anymore.