You admitted a weakness,
A sweetness in your honesty
But I never imagined it could be.

A glance caught,
A laugh shared with ease,
A fool, that's me.

So simply self convinced,
No chance for this.
But then, a light touch to knee...

And like that day you shook my hand,
We met.
And now I see.

So much to learn for
This is your world,
This language is is not me.

But I'm a fool
who wants to learn,
Teach me.

Wind is cold and the sky is grey,
And it just so happens that I'm leather bound.

Fortified for when the weather breaks,
Or the rain falls to the ground.

The snow may fall or the leaves decay,
But no cracks in me can be found.

I'd like nothing more  
Than simply everything.

She is emptiness.
She is disappointment
and cigarettes
hiding under breathe mints.
She is hollow
and resentment resounds,
reverberating,
and vibrating
her core.
She is anger
and grief.
She is mourning
and sorrow.
She is hopeless
nothing to look forward to,
not even the promise of tomorrow.
She is loneliness
and guilt
for letting perfect love
just sit there and wilt.
She is the morning after
a night of alcohol.
She is the memories
she desperately tries
to drown in another
cacophony of music
and sounds.
She is depression
that she tries to throw to the wind
as she throws another handful of pills
down her mouth.
She is hate
and it eats away
until there isn't much left
to say.
She is you.
She is me.
She is everyone
but no one.
She is.

I hear you fiddling about and it's like listening to thoughts.
Not sure if they're yours
or no ones.

Fingers travel awhile on one piece and then just as quick
they're searching for something; like the path isn't clear,
or not there at all.

And you'll mess up or miss something and laugh
and it fits right in.

First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13