Tell me that you love me and that you'll stay,
because time takes passion slowly away,
and I don't care if you forget my name,
but all the same,
remember how I made you Feel.

See, love is just a word with no meaning
and more than once I've been left dreaming.
Hopeless romantics can't compete
with how much I succumb to cold feet.
But, all the same,
remember how you made me Listen.

Smell the dead roses scattered about.
The petals die amongst new sprouts,
just as this, you spoke my name,
but all the same,
remember please, our Taste of freedom.

My Senses spin with unfulfilled desire,
and upon silent lips, the coldest fire.
Yet still, I wish to hear that phrase,
"I love you," more than ever these days,

but all the same,
and upon my name,

what you couldn't say
I cannot blame.

Be as a kaleidoscope
and fractalize the mind.
Embrace the dichroic glass,
and break what limits bind.

Smoother than a marble egg,
yet tempered more than brass,
bemuse yourself entirely
with Millefiori glass.

For in its mystic ampule
birefringent voices dance,
and visions come together
should time befit the chance.

No turn, nor shake, nor twist
can break its hallowed grace.
Acknowledge its diversity
and revel in azoth space.

Its symmetry is blithe at times,
yet stunning through and through,
and dashing through its mirrored hall,
the light shall come to you.

There is beauty in a beam of light.
Caress its warmth and hope.
How wondrous still that beauty grows
with a simple kaleidoscope.

Time;
I remember
a time when
cities were made
of nothing but Legos
and one's imagination.

Still,
even now
I can't help
but wish harder
that the cities we walk
were still made of that stuff.

Cardboard,
took us miles,
and paper planes
really did bring us flight.

So,
I ask;
Please,
don't let
your imagination
fall into stagnation,
like a Lego block
that gathers
dust.

Since when do you drink tea?
Because recently
you told me
that tea
was not your
"cup of tea."

You didn't tell me
that inevitably
you'd be
drinking tea
with everybody.
So when did you start drinking tea?

It wasn't because of me,
so stop drinking tea
in front of me,
because obviously
this isn't about the tea.

"sorry"
that it took an extra two minutes
to get to the house,

that the air is thin
in the mountains,

that you're not "used to"
driving through thick forest,

because I'm sick of being reminded
that there's not enough air to go around.

The forest you drove through,
photosynthesis?
Still happening,
which means,
oxygen.

The mountain air,
yeah, it's thin,
but ******,
we should be used to it,
at least by now,

yet still,
those extra two minutes,
those same two
that you keep adding a "sorry" to,
please,
enough *******,
just stop with the "sorry."

I know it's not your fault,
yet still,
please just bear with it for now
and be silent.

Nothing you say
can put oxygen
back into
a dead friend's lungs.

Incandescent light bulbs,
when they share their love,
it tends to light up a room.
As for pieces of broken mirrors,
they're really just smaller new ones
awash with life experience.

So, when you told me
that you were broken
I begged to differ.

The difference between
a broken lightbulb
and a dead one
is simply shattered glass,
and the difference between
a broken mirror
and a dead one
is the person looking in it.

So please,
you may be broken,
but without you
I have no light,
and mirrors are useless
in the dark.

Among addictions and vice
there are none I want more
than an addiction to the sunrise,
a vice most forgiving.

The taste of alcohol,
inciting the bellicose beast
cannot satisfy me,
and I have tried.

As for pleasure,
the kind that makes skin crawl
and the breath heavy,
needs more than itself to satisfy,

so I searched on.

Chalices of wine and paper smoke,
skin and bedrooms bathed in moonlight,
the allure of quick satisfaction
could not satiate my thirst.

Only one scene has been constant,
delivering me from my vices,
partner of the morning skies,
far from tinctures and tonics,

the sunrise.