i knew they were all fake
and it's not that there was 3
it was that you lied
i would like to say i'm surprised
even this last piece of you
fake...

I tried reaching out to you.
Don't you remember when you said you still wanted to "be friends"?
I was trying to put aside our differences, forget what you did to me.
I tried being your friend again,
But you rejected me.

It was your idea, don't you know.
I still wish I never met you.
But now that I have,
I can't live without you.

I tried to be "just friends",
But you no longer even want that...

When he kissed me I was breathless,
you asked me what I felt I was speechless.
I smiled then looked down you picked my chin up
then kissed me again.

It's that heart-clenching feeling when you want something so badly.
It's the ache you feel right down to your bones when you feel a part of you is missing.
(how could you miss arms you've never felt?)
The pain, the longing just has a way of eating you from the inside out, until all that's left is a hollow body.
Just a living being wanting, wanting to feel that semblance of warmth, of love.

Remember before this
when faith,
synonymous with bliss,
caught you on the down side,
gave you heart to fly?
The hero isn't the fable,
the circled hands at the kitchen table.
Change isn't just a constant
without it we are haunted

There's more space out here to breathe
the budding branches after fall
that big orange ball
alone, after all,
since there is no more than one.
And, coming over the hill,
I feel free to revel in the sun,
in purple, indigo, pink blazing horizon,
and I choose to smile.
"What's a few more miles?"
Because right now, I am the Soldier
feeling heart and bones get older
ordered by this Sergeant Brain.
But soon, I will be the Farmer,
trading weapon and armor
for soil and grain.

The sound of the wooden flute
it's as if I'm listening to the song of the warbler
those that visit at sunset
bringing rest and relaxation to the weary

Their song resting on a bed
of an ever present drone
of the didjeridoo
comforts and quiets me

There, the stick
beating on a block of wood
I feel as if there are
droplets of dew
falling from leaves from a tree above me
into a pool of water at my feet

It's as if the water of life
my life
is returning home

As the shamisens strings come alive
I see a field of wildflowers
they wave gently in the breeze
that is brought forth from its music

Peace is mine

Happiness abounds

My spirit is renewed