how can you end sadness

when you don’t know why

it exists

I don't even have words,
For the ways that I don't feel,
I am not the waving of the fields.

I hold onto songs about the moon,
My tides do not swell with her,
I am more the darkness in this room,
Cold, unmoving, absolute.

I am not the motion of your hair,
As he runs his fingers through it,
I no longer even stare.

I Am not the climbing of tree,
I do not yearn upward,
Is there anything to see?
(or be?)

I am not the warmness of your breath,
Clinging tight to your fingers,
And the inside of your chest,

I am not the dreams you make,
As dragons fly by night,
And sparks flow in your wake.

I am not the whispers,
You feel close to your ears,
I am more like distant echoes,

they talk down through
the centuries to us,
and this we need more and more,
the statues and paintings
in midnight age
as we go along
holding dead hands.

and we would say
rather than delude the knowing:
a **** good show,
but hardly enough for a horse to eat,
and out on the sunshine street where
eyes are dabbled in metazoan faces
i decide again
that in theses centuries
they have done very well
considering the nature of their
brothers:
it's more than good
that some of them,
(closer really to the field-mouse than
falcon)
have been bold enough to try.

She says,'goodnight'
but I wait
she might not mean it.
Bit by bit
I realise
that she does.

Envy, like ivy, itches
But its rash is green, not red
And the victims affected
Are those who caused it instead.
Jealousy, like fire, burns
But its blaze is cold, not hot
And the flames spread
Inward in the heart it caught.
Resentment, spite
And bitter greed are bred
Within the veins of the
Jade blood that’s bled.
The ice cold heart plays
Tricks on its clueless host.
Jaded is the one who
Started off caring most.
No one likes a needy fool—
It’s envy’s tragic curse.
A loving angel shall be
Turned into their very worst.

Isn’t it funny how things change?
The monster I am today,
Was once the loving friend
You simply turned away.
I admit I am no saint, but I was
No sinner to you, ever.
I just couldn’t stand it when
You thought you found better.
How was I to know you
Couldn’t see that I was hurt?
I hope even now you’ll think
Back on how I at least came first.
I’m not sorry, and I don’t think
I ever could be
For you closed your eyes
And let envy take me.
The monster I am today,
Look into my eyes,
You created this person
You so fervently despise.

Over hill, over dale,
    Thorough bush, thorough brier,
  Over park, over pale,
    Thorough flood, thorough fire,
    I do wander everywhere,
    Swifter than the moonè’s sphere;
    And I serve the fairy queen,
    To dew her orbs upon the green:
    The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
    In their gold coats spots you see;
    Those be rubies, fairy favours,
    In those freckles live their savours:
  I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.

He was the blood which ran through my veins
He was my thoughts before my dreams
which made him appear in my dreams night after night.

Why the hell did you have to disappear on me?

****. -even after a year,

You're still in my veins.