"How'd you get so messed up?"
That's one way to put it
I've always tried to learn from your experiences.

"They're three?"
Pleasure and release
That's one way to find yourself.

"Is she their mother?"
You'd think I was older
Two kids and thirteen haven't happened here.

"When mom gets home..."
I'll try to forget what I do
I'll try to forget what I didn't do
and in this I will learn from you
your beautiful mistakes
that are us; your daughters.

Do you remember when there was no such thing as time and we were all that were? Sitting, laying, touching, laughing, and loving one another in-between my life and yours. Your life, your family and your home; years that defined you, people who loved you and a refuge from humanity and all that was false in your eyes, your dark lovely eyes. And mine, stability built up from a cliffs edge, devotion and love- caring for blood that defined what home was to me; no walls or place. Moments and feelings that I treasure and recall are what we have, and I find that they are not enough to fill the days without you...

My dreams of a family, of solid ground, that I won't be left alone or forced to roam as so many have before me. I wonder about your dreams and what they might be. But our time has been too brief; I barely know you. But I do know of you and some parts come through our distance and space. Which lead me to believe that you don't have dreams, not truly, not like I do. Just as your sleep is not visited by flashing pleasantries, your conscious state isn't either...

Is it?

In a moment fully and only allowing contentment, as long as you have control. And when you don't clutching to stave off admitting a black mood; acknowledging only furthering it's substance. At least- that is what you've said, or what I've remembered. But I couldn't see your lips moving; I can't know that it is real, your words. Just as I can't truly know that you are real when you aren't here. All memories and feelings of devotion could be from my own mind's making, complete, and seemingly whole, but devoid; as then my life would be.

You could just be a story, a lovely story.

A new perspective.

                                    In memories
                                    In the now
                                    They are old
                                    They are new
                                    They are wrought.

A budding relationship,  
                                               with it's frailties.
A friendship falling,
                                        lies pervading through.

A mother and her grown daughter,
                                                       ­             both feeling trapped.

Being nervous and excited.
Being irrational and righteous.
Being torn and depleted.

I have grown from this.
I have been burned and healed.
I have cried as have you.

I let your eager hands meet flesh.
I let your desertion make me strong.

                                                But

I will not let you go from this betrayal,
I will not let you explain these discretions away.

I feel numb, but only in my arm;
That's where the work goes.
It creeps along stealing away
all I should be feeling.
Besides it's existence,
For existence doesn't fade away
Till there are none that remember
And so
It reminds me of forgetting you
Becoming numb to your receding touch
Until it's memory is but a mere and faint brush
A pressure forgotten for which I now wish for so much.

There is a lack of anything brilliant
and I let you make it that way.
You are obsessive and cold;
I was reeled in.

Time passes, an eon ensues
and I still can't lie down.
I'm oppressed and growing older;
I was cajoled by you.

There is a warmth in my arms,
and he is my beacon.
You are a memory, old.
I was right.

Time goes on with me
and without me, you do too.
There is only one thing left,
one thing that is still you.

Night.

My days turned Night.

Do you remember when there was no such thing as time and we were all that were? Sitting, laying, touching, laughing, and loving one another in-between my life and yours. Your life, your family and your home; years that defined you, people who loved you and a refuge from humanity and all that was false in your eyes, your dark lovely eyes. And mine, stability built up from a cliffs edge, devotion and love- caring for blood that defined what home was to me; no walls or place. Moments and feelings that I treasure and recall are what we have, and I find that they are not enough to fill the days without you...

Glass is what I see you through
The world changes, as does my view
The scene today is pensive
Through my glass you look so defensive
And I want to look at you the way
You really are today

Glass is what holds me from you
The invisible shield that you threw
Unconscious, I'd like to think
But I couldn't know, we aren't in sync
I want to sit by you today
But I don't know if that'd be okay

Glass isn't something you can feel
This view and shield, it isn't real
Not in the way that you are thinking
Not in the way that you are linking
Together these words of mine
I wish that you could align

These things
Humanities endless rings
That each and every soul
Has it's very own glass whole
Of everything that could be
But, it is wholly your choice to see

I cannot stop you from
Slicing through the flesh
To bring searing the pain
When time slips the knife
Let that throbbing life remain

Woman I can't see you,
where did you go?

The forms that surround you
are solid, you glow.

If I peer shyly toward
some substance appears,

Yet if I look too hard
you are swallowed in tears.

My hardening heart can see
but doesn't imbue.

I blink, it couldn't be true,
all along it was you.

It's in the eyes
That's how you know
The lies
The love
How you shove me away
And draw me back.

Without the muscles
Would they still bore
Numb to any coaxing
No way of showing
Or would you?
Find a way to tell me what you wish to say
Even when the needles thick into you
Taking what you have earned
You giving it away

It's in the eyes
That's how I know
When the hours show
When the blood has tired out
And I must let go

A small syringe placed just so
To let the laughter and anger go
To wipe away and smear the story
Of my sorrow and my glory

It's in my eyes
And in the base
Where it's stored and understood
It's in my eyes
And in my head
The sleep I need to erase
Everything you've done.