Some say you can know someone
From the contents of their purse
From their favorite music
Or what they want to take with them in a hearse

I say it's a far simpler method
To just look at one's search history
Which is why I messed around with the settings
And made my Google tracks a mystery

I'm a fool.

Lost between something truly comfortable
and an old spark.
Why the **** do I do this ****?
This feeling of lost time,
Of constant yearning.
The result of a lifetime of unsatisfactory relationships; especially the one I have with myself.
That's the answer isn't it?
Nothing.
Just me, myself and I to figure it all out.
100% acknowledged.
Yet my heart...
Could not yearn harder.
It's defining... This constant pulse in my ears.
Makes me want to curl up and sleep it off...
No hangover in the morning,
No missed messages,
Nothing.

Just wash my makeup off,
And still think I'm beautiful.

Wait...

And like any other phenomena
They were curious about her
"How does she start? Where does she end?" "What is she made of?" "When does she fade?"
Wrote myths and tales about her
"On her edges, there are pots of gold." "And these pots of gold, they are guarded by trolls."

But they cannot figure her out
Like a rainbow on a rainy afternoon
before they even get to know her, she was gone

Kindness
Is
A
Language
In
Which
The
Deaf
Can
Hear
And
The
blind
Can
See

A bubbling goodness,
and some simmering heat,
like the melting of heaven
that just can't be beat,
intoxicating wafts,
so sickeningly sweet,

In swirls of deep Cocoa,
and fresh Vermont cream,
my homemade hot chocolate,
is like sipping a dream,

A warm and delicious place to escape,
come in from the cold of the world,
in a ball on the couch,
where I sit and I sip,
with my cat where he is,
as he's curled,

He's up on my lap,
as I give him a pat,
on his thankful and sweet little head,
and I say that I'm thankful for all
and for our comfy warm little bed,
and I watch it snow - at last,

I listen to music that's alive in this place,
a friendly sweet smile comes to my face,

I say me a thank you,
to whoever will hear,
I hear comfort whispered again in my ear,
and I feel a beautiful moment of peace.

Ma Cherie © 2017

How warm is the moon?
Can it sustain life?
It's like a natural balloon,
so be careful with your knife.
He's a funny little guy, that man up there.
I feel very bad some days, he seems lonesome.
At one point I was told he had a rabbit or a bear,
But it seems that they can't even fix his glum.
I don't know what to tell him,
I don't even know if I can,
But if I find a way to reach the rim,
I think I'd tell, him we'd all want that land.