An experience
will always be more valuable than a possession.
And how lucky you are
to have both at once, for
I have long-since given myself to you.

There came a time I closed our doors
A time after you left
For the heart of my heart
I cannot lock the door.
There came a time our treasure chest met its eternal hole
For life of my life I cannot bury it.
They say you love once
If that was true
Why oh why
Do I keep falling in love with you
Everyday , every night and it repeats
My beautiful replay of our edwardian love.
You were my everything and now that my everything is gone I have nothing.
Grieve I grieve more then I should , I hurt more then I should but all I can think and do is only love you.
With sorrowful joy-
Theres a part of me that still thinks of you and whatever fears I have disappears

The sun rises
Dawn comes
The dark runs
But so does our love.
A bird comes
he sits
I chase him
But he doesn't run
flying through the air things are herald at him but he doesn't run.
Dusk comes and I hate the bird.
His beautiful multicoloured feathers
His sweet song promises pain
He brings love but when I held him he took my love and flew away.
Betrayal bitter betrayal
Why my love why did you fly into my life and glide away with every thing I have and everything I am.

At the end of it all, we said good bye a hundred different ways
but never with our words

and on Halloween we crept down the stairs as not to wake the others
and we burned every last piece of him you had left
and I let you cry yourself to sleep in my arms
and we lit a few candles and we started being
us

and you intimidated me because you were beautiful
and charming
and cunning
and smart

and I was just 15 years old and boring
and you were 18 and everything I ever wanted to be

and I guess I could say I love you

and the way your skin felt as I caressed it
as we laid in your bed (or mine)
wide eyed and heavy hearted

and you were not the first girl I ever kissed
but you were the first and only one I've ever loved

and oh how I ******* loved you
how I still ******* love you

Her face, flawless and filtered, flows over
my chest, ribs, stomach, hips, fitting the curved
mounds of my body, and even within simplicity
of thread and dye, I sense her presence as her face
hangs from my frame, a statement louder than pillow-lips,
Nancy Sinatra-hair and a glamorous 60’s ***** face.

When paired with leggings and an artfully-distressed denim jacket,
I become a member of the “freshman generation of degenerate
beauty queens,” a hipster fallen to the circumstance of youth,
but I wear her face and the romance of it all reminds me:
we are not defined as Lolitas lost in the hood, or distant,
airy voices in a sea of crude jokes and half-baked skits

meant to highlight shortcomings of a person who doesn’t give
two *****. Lana fits me better than my ribbed, red
sweater and even amidst gods and monsters,
this T-shirt makes pretty last, and I am just as cool.

I look up to you Sweet Jane
And try a smile amidst this pain.
The hands of sorrow, stroke me slight
While I long to be relieved from this night.

My heart fails to tell a lie
But sings to fools until it dies
Rich with impeccable sloth, plain
I pray, dear Jane to rid me of these chains.

Tempts, with fingers quick to please
Dark ecstasy fills me with ease
Cold wetness waits for the impure
For the slow rage of ***, there is no cure.

Go forth into the world, to ****- to play
Mad Jane, take your time. They will pay
Finally, bid my mind welcome peace
And lay with my lost soul until we cease.