Paint for me a dream
Colored in hues of emotion
Steeped in love
And dusted in music

You left a long time ago -
the most beautiful part of my life ended and I was left in the shadow of a scorching sun,
in the embrace of an unforgiving ground,
in the care of a love that was no longer an oasis.

You left last night -
the sky became dark,
the ground turned cold,
and my love burned out.

All I wanted was for you to stay and if that was too much to ask for, then I just wanted to feel your heart one last time. Just one last time.

I've been in the ground for years but everything still comes back to you -
the rain has come and it's beckoning me. Come out. The sun is no longer around. It isn't cold. Rather, it is a warm night.

The rain is heavy and persistent but it only wants one thing. It wants to look for you. So what will I do? What can I do?

I'll let the rain wash me away, away, away...
and maybe it will lead me back to the ocean. Back to you.

There's ***** dish water stewing in the kitchen sink.
There's a ghost of passion past,
Stopping to take a drink.
There's more to her surface than what you think.

But all you want is all you ever wanted.
It's just a fantasy.
And it's time to pull the plug.

why do i find comfort in you?
you are a perfect stranger.
why is it that i find peace in your eyes
when in fact,
our eyes have never met.
how is it that i find assurance in your voice
but all you've sang about is her?
why do i call your arms 'home'?
by no means i've ever experienced home.

Ive watched you grow and retreat
Ive seen the waves come close
And get ****** back in
I've watched the green dance with blue;
The combination of salt and air,
That soothes the rough current.
You’ve come close and pulled back,
Swallowed me whole and spit me out.
But no matter where the tide may go, the salt is always its product,
No matter how far you get from the shore,
The current will send you back again.

As the sun smirks.

She tells me it takes time,
but what is time?
The passing of moments
that turn into hours
that make up the days
that stretch into weeks
that fill up the months
that linger as years?

It takes time to heal.
I cut my arm once.
It was on purpose.
Deep enough to need stitches
but I didn’t see a doctor.
Instead I watched time pass.
Time was red blood flowing
Into slowly clotting drying blood
Into stiff inflexible scab
Into peeling, pusing dead skin
Into pink jagged itchy new skin
Into scar, also known as memory.

It takes time to forgive.
My fingers run over that scar
and time stands still
as it rushes through my brain:
Time is in my mind’s eye
Four-year old me slipping on glasses
for the first time,
Seven-year old me slipping on glasses
after they were slapped off and shattered, again,
Twelve-year old me slipping on glasses
after they were slapped off and shattered, again,
Sixteen-year old me slipping on glasses
after they were slapped off and shattered, again,
Twenty-one-year old me slipping on glasses
after they were shattered for the last time;
I blink at the clock
and see a life-time has passed in thirty seconds.

It takes time.
And some days it feels like
it was all such a very long time ago.
And some days my heart seizes
like it did at the moment it happened.
It takes time; but what is time?