I am sorry to announce this
but you all need to know that
I am not who you think...

The things I do are dream like
they don't ever make sense when
I do them and afterwards I
can never seem to rationalize them
or understand what was going through
my own mind...

As I sit in this Christmas decorated,
friendly coffee shop filled with strangers
and people I know I have cut too deep
I find it hard to believe that I do
not know who I am anymore.

I feel like an alien in this skin,
waiting to break free of the ridicule,
of the pain it seems I cause so often...

I am scared and weak,
vulnerable even...
I think...

Then again, it's difficult to tell
what is real and what is not.
I write too much in my head,
this demented Wonderland I
created by mistake and it is
beginning to drive me
just a little mad.

So if you are reading this now,
and you think you know me
I am so sorry to announce that
you don't and you never did.

Because how could you know
someone who does not even
know them self?

The sun will rise -
The moonlight will fade -
I am ready to run -
and forget their lies -
let's leave the world behind -
Follow that butterfly -
Just have fun -
who knows what we'll find -
I'll be yours -
And you'll be mine -
We'll laugh and love -
so step away from the doors -
off we go -
to see this place -
all its beauty -
or simply watch the show -

I need you
to know that you
are a spider just
sitting in your web,

waiting for some
unfortunate soul
to join you; to be
intrigued, to
submit itself
to your
chaos

merely for your entertainment.

I need you
to know that you
are a spider and
I am a fly,
but someday
our roles will
be revised.

I hope you enjoyed feasting
on my heart and any
fragments of my soul
you were able to grasp
because the day
I manage to get
the first taste
of you

will be the sweetest
I've ever known
alongside the
most glorious
revenge
possible.

I know you've been through it all before,
too afraid to admit that you loved and lost
forgetting that only the brave survive.

Someone was here long before me,
they took your strengths and poked holes
in them while smelting your insecurities
into permanent scars and doubts. That's
when you put your heart in storage

before the beginning of the world's second end
in hope someone new (someone like me)
would come along and take you for a walk
in the clouds holding your hand the way
it's thought that angels will when Time comes
to pull you away from your last page.

I know you've been through it all before,
you know what it's like to shatter and fall
but not everyone is another pirate

taking advantage of the rare
golden hearted seraphim of the myth
(you and your kind). So please, Darling,

please, let me love you.

"I know you want the best for me,
you always have and even if we fall
through something tells me you
still will. That's why I didn't want
you to know about today. . .

I wasn't trying to hurt anyone
and I did everything everyone
asked of me, so them yelling,
chewing me out, telling me to
do more, work harder, get up earlier,

ate away at me more than I could
take and I saw the cigarettes on
the back porch and felt the lighter
in my pocket next to the knife
sober of my blood for months.

The withdraws wouldn't hurt so much
if people wouldn't stare at me and
point out everything I already hate
about myself. I know you love me,

you always want the best for me
and somehow I think that will still
be the case, even if we fall through.
That's why I'm begging you to leave -

so you don't see the lipstick stains
from bittersweet butterfly kisses
or smell the smoke carrying even more
of me too far away to get back."

She wrote on a ripped up piece of
crumpled paper and placed inside
my locker outside of the art room.

"There is hope, light, and beauty
buried deep inside and I am
completely determined to show
that to you, Lovely girl. You can't
throw me far enough that I won't
be back. My soul is part of the
crashing waves that mesmerize you
ever so. Don't give up yet."

was all I could say in response.

You can't leave me either,
you may be the earthquake
off the coast, but I'm the volcano
on the fault lines.

"Your poetry is lonely," he said,
"Yet you write to feel less alone."

"I know," I answered the way wind answers
a hot afternoon jogger on the highway's edge.
There was a silence, the only noises were
the keys of his old typewriter

click clacking away at themselves,
"I'm sorry," I sobbed. He got up
and walked to the door, put his hand
on the doorknob, opened his heart

and faced me once more,
"It wasn't meant to hurt you, Love.
That's the last thing she said to me
and life is too precious to waste
thinking everyone's out to get you."

With that he left me to my thoughts,
replaying the scene again and again,
maybe I should get a typewriter myself
to write my story just as powerfully
as he wrote his. To be in some young person's
dream, inspiring them the way he does
for me. . .

There is only us now,
we have an entire life
to lead, just for us.
Nobody to please,
nothing to do,
nowhere to go,
except have fun.
All we have left
is us and only us.
But if all we have is
this life time,
if all we have is
this love, our love,
if all we have is
only us;
then I'm okay with
what we have.
Because all I'll
ever want or need is
ever going to be
only us.

I shall walk slowly there
with nothing left to fear
but Fear himself there is
no other thing to do
like such

however

light takes the tree over
by the fence singing beneath
the fullest moon ever seen

and Time screams
too softly to be heard
as Fear passes on to
a world completely
unlike this

yet

I shall walk slowly there
fearing only Fear ticking
seconds off one by one
listening to Time questioning
more than I
ever have

what shall become of us all
if moments continue
wasting away
like this

I know. It was because you loved me too much
to stick around and see me in such pain.
You figured it would be better to come back
and help clean up afterwards. But your plan
didn't really work because your absence killed me
so much that I gave up on the rest. I know.

You felt like a monster and couldn't
bring yourself to face me again after the fact.
It was because you loved me too much.0
I know. I understand.

You need to know.
I forgive you.

You need to know.

You should understand.

Let your rain fall down again
watch lighting crash against
blackness of everything that
simply cannot be described.

Tell me of your nightmares
so I can pull you close, share
with me your every dream
and I will chase it with you.

We talk and time melts away
you say good night but I only
wish you could stay. The stars
are beautiful but you are too,

Let your rain fall down again
watch lighting crash against
your pain, give me a second
to bring your smile back home.

I know you can't hear me -
no one ever can.

That's why I scatter my thoughts,
comments, and ideas all over my world
for the few people who actually care
to find at their own leisure. I know you -
you are genuinely curious, that's why you
have found my every physical hiding place
and mental cottages and libraries
holding the only known dictionaries of
my own special languages. I know you -
you have already realized that most of this
is meant for a specific little group of people
who don't even try to understand
what I am doing. Not the way you do at least.

I know you can't hear me -
no one ever can.

That's why this will wait here for years
and years, looked at by hundreds -
maybe even thousands of people none of whom
will quite get it and then you will go scrolling through
trying to catch up on what you missed
when you refused to care because it just hurt you -
I like to say I know you, but the sad truth is
I only ever knew you and that has long since ended.

I know you can't hear me -
no one ever can.

We view the world in blacks,
grays, and whites while you're
the one who noticed color as
you look back.

We only drink the words
that others say to us
and somehow you managed
to become each of them.

How does that work,
how were you so special?
So beautiful, so wise?

We wanted to learn
from you and truly live
and it's a shame you're gone
we merely wish to see
the world through
your bright eyes.

And I'll keep singing that song I wrote for you
even though, you're miles and miles away
but it's a twisted dream in this kinda world
where nothin' ever goes your way.

You will not wait for me and I understand that,
really I do, it's just that caged memories
and ghosts 13 cents short of a bus ride home
are more painful to hold than you'd think.

See, a wannabe husband's promise
is almost never enough and he always finds a way
to replace his perfect girl right before the day
she says yes and the fairy tale begins.

So I'll keep singing this song that I wrote for you,
even though, you're miles and miles away,
and it's been almost a year
since I was replaced by her.

I know you will forgive me for
not writing in a while. It's just that
life got in the way of living again.

Then they needed me at home,
to clean up all of my messes.

Later I was out of ink and my quills
flew back to the birds they came from
(and I didn't have enough spare money
for new ones.) And now I know you will
forgive me for not writing you in a while.

I was caught in the tide and pulled down
lower for longer than I ever have before.

I know you will forgive me
but I'm still so sorry. . .

When you were once somebody's everything
and then you become a ghost
lingering, haunting their every move
then you make the space between their heart
and their mind even greater than it already was.

But of course this is just another rant
with all the things I will never say
to your face the way I always wanted to,
so this is my declaration of moving on:

As much as I love you, I do not miss you at all;
our dreams have become water from the moon,
and from this moment on my every thought
of you shall turn to smoke and mist
only to later d .r .i .f .t away

almost

completely.

A day meant to be special

the world was supposed to
be in the palm of her hand
today

yet here she is all alone again
sitting on the edge of her bed
fighting back tears as she
remembers

the last time she heard him
say those sweet little words
honestly.

she turned sixteen and learned
to drive anywhere she could
dream

mom gave her hugs and kisses,
trust and a fresh start, forgiving
everything.

a day meant to be special

the world was supposed to
be in the palm of her hand
today

that's the problem with
memories,

birthdays,

and

teenagers.

I keep thinking that I can write you a letter
with so much love and beauty on the page that
you will not wonder why it never worked
quite so well with anyone else. My pen
has grown to be quite haughty,
she swears it's a task she can
skillfully complete and yet
here we are three years later
and still no where close.

I swear I tried to enjoy
the holidays filled with love
and laughter, surrounded by
close friends and sweet souls,

but it is difficult to slip into
***** interactions presented
to you while the romance is
gone and has been for months.

I didn't miss your birthday
the way you let mine slide past
and I wished you all the best
holiday like beautiful experiences.

So this time you can't say
I left you high and dry or
locked out in the storm
though I will admit if you

ever make it back I will
be tempted to do something
of the sort, because in a way
that is what you're doing now.

Like I said, I tried to enjoy
the parties and presents
paired with all my favorite dishes
and most special people.

Only my mind kept going back
to you, what could you be doing
or maybe even where, did you
have another awkward party?

The softest sound
reached for shape
and settled upon
drops of glass-like
rain falling from the
gardens of your
God forsaken bible
and whispered,

"Heaven
. . . is. . .
Falling."

The sun rose early today,
birds sang freely, roses danced,
and asked about you

I'm lost in the notes of your breathing,
holding on to the damp nothingness
of your blank shirt and your strong arms
pulling me closer and closer to the
delicate beating of your perfect heart.

Mosquitos and ants buzzing around
eating the delicious nectar of our sweet
blood. Sweat drenching us both calling
nature to us in hopes of a midnight
snack incomparable to any other.

Stars dancing above us, one longing
to know us better falls through the
clouds only to make you wish
happiness for the both of us. The moon
shining bright white light of hope
reminding us all is well yet again.

Finally moving into bed, safe and warm
to allow sleep to over come our
sanity and hopes. Plastic butterflies
dancing above us from the ceiling
soothing me as though I were a baby
lying in a crib with my favorite blanket.

Your arms around me, bodies tight
breathing shallowly in sync as eyes
flutter closed once more off to a land
better than that of dreams. Oh how I
love this first memory of sanity
and risk. Oh how I love the feel
of this moment and of you pressed
ever so gently against me.

Please don't ever let this moment
fade, for I cannot recall ever being
more sane, more hopeful, or any
more perfect in the company of another.

No one ever said that you have to
listen to me or anything that I have
to say. And still you show up here
every day ready to feast on my thoughts.

Today seems like a good day to
thank you for that. So, Darling,
you are my biggest fan and I will
always remember you as such.

Don't worry,

Everything will be better soon,
There is a solution to all of this.
Things like this just take a little time.

Oh baby boy, everythings o.k.,
Dont you cry honey.
It's just life, that's how it
Always seems to go.

Shush Darling,

Itll be over soon,
We've had enough of this.
I promise this is the last time.

Sweetie, someday itll be o.k.
Try to smile, please, honey.
People leave, that's how it
Always seems to go.

Sleep now,

Dawn will arrive soon,
Nothing ever darker than this.
Night only has so much time.

Baby, things will be o.k
People quit, their choice honey.
They just cant stay is how it
Always seems to go.

Don't worry,
It's o.k.

Pretty girl, Pretty girl,
you are not yet dead
look my way for a moment
please, pick up your head.

There's something called a smile
you see them every day
don'y you know that your's
is beautiful enough to stay?

Pretty girl, Pretty girl,
you are not yet alright,
just hang in there, someone is
coming to get you through the night.

I know how much this hurts
and you are feeling sorta lost
look my way for a moment
I love you forever - free of cost.

There's mascara running down the folds of my faded pillow
and it's not that anything is even that wrong. Please,
don't think that I'm one of those attention seeker types,
because that's not it at all - I swear. Or is this one of those
moments where "thou doth protest too much" makes perfect sense?

I remember nibbling on your shoulder, starving for your attention
and now I wonder if you've ever needed anything from me
with enough fervor and ferocity to actually beg for it (me). I wonder
if the single drops that quenched my parched lips so effortlessly
when you weren't around have ever been enough for you.

And I know it's sad to say this since I fought you every time you tried
but I miss the potential of having a light something to eat or drink
while indulging in a conversation more hearty than I could ever be.
The fact that there are no guests knocking on the door at three
in the afternoon or even at three o' five breaks my heart.

So here I am, alone, waiting for the violet kettle to whistle
with a tray full of cobalt speckled blueberry scones and airy white,
sweet cream to balance out the **** of fruit picked too early -
or maybe it's only there to subdue the pain of opinions varied from your own.
Either way, it is enticing and I wish it could do its job more properly.

Slowly, I'll stir the milk and two sugars into the dark mixture
watching the shapes play leap frog in awkward motion,
humming along with the delicate, lacey clink of the metal spoon
chiming against the porcelain cup. It's just not the same
now that I know that not everyone has to make do with

breadcrumbs.

"I have something to say.
It's the most important thing
you will hear all day! You need to
hear this. You'll want to listen,"
the world will scream at you.

But this, this is the only time
it will ever be completely true,
(but I guess that's what
everyone says, every time.)

You are magnificent.

You think it's so easy for the impulse
to ignore you, for them to let you win,
to fight the feeling of being yellow
yet again. Only they tell you to let
them win this one so you can have
the next, they say you need to take it
easy and just imagine what it's like
to stop time, stand still and have
the world at your feet.

They test you at the hands of fate,
and make it sound so simple to give
your power away, but Baby, don't
give in to their tragic little lullaby,
you're so beautiful, our precious angel
from more than just the sky.

I try to write about you, but
it's so hard, when you toss
my words in the trash and
say that it's all a lie.

Somebody does care
about you, they want you
to have the very best.
There's at least one person
out there willing to give
you their all and someday
you'll see that, or I'll die
in vain. Because Sweetheart,

you deserve
so much better
than this.

In case you have yet to realize it,
you are nothing more than an enigma
shrouded in the best mystery ever written
and never solved. Perhaps that is
the only reason so many people have
begged you for such small pieces of

your tiny,
shattered,
charred
heart.

I miss the way you rolled over and kissed her
as the sunlight delicately tiptoed in through the curtains
and the way that the aroma from your coffee so
beautifully accosted my floorboards each morning.
I remember the way laughter echoed off of every wall
when the kids got home from school, their jokes are
still whispered from time to time just between the walls and I.
I still feel your routines and the subtle ways you'd shake
my very foundation once the stars came out to play.

What happened to the good life of my forty-five year long friends? Where were you going as the rain beat down harder than
ever before and why couldn't you find your way back?
Your daughter's doll weeps on her bed. Your son's blanket is
lonely and cold. The ring you gave your wife has lost all
it's perfect shine. The scratched CD you forgot to turn off
still plays the heartbroken songs you two loved dancing to
on repeat. We all remember you, but do any of you

remember us?

Eyes flutter shut
like butterfly wings
in the early sunrise

I know you're gone
but dreams of you
come so swiftly
that id rather live there

than to wake
another day.

Fingertips trace
the outline of what
was once your
silhouette

and somehow
even though it's all
over, you're still here

loving me

every step
of the way.

The life of a poet is difficult
ups and downs, dark and light
so many things misunderstood;
but who's to claim wrong or right?

I wish I could tell you
that I lived a life like that
but something makes me think
I am far from ready for that.

Rhymes are no quick and
metaphors and similes dont stick
like glue to paper with thoughts in mind
because rhythm always gets me sick.

The life of a poet is not for me
I cannot write, I don't know
the tricks and skills like you;
poetry just isn't my show.

In a place to sing
with a little dancing room
I realized what desire is -

the need
to make someone else
to yourself known.

Then waking
like a ghost
hungover on your
pleasures to an empty
bed and a lonely
room with hope
that they'll return
soon

knowing full well
if they do you've
finally met your match
and if not

you're just
another ghost
rotten to the core
searching for a door
to pass through
to another world
a world that
doesn't exist.

And all of this
happened last night
in a place to sing
with a little dancing room

Dear *,

Try to understand glass wounds from
broken beer bottles and bitter secrets
of scattered memories whispered
almost delicately from lace like
dancing shadows waiting on the beaches
in Venice for innocent passers by
to miss and muse from

aren't always so easy to take. And
remember how you promised to wake
me up from the creases between sleep
and death when everything was fixed
again, but you didn't so it shouldn't matter
that I'm gone now.

You had your chance to save me,
you did nothing. Now's your chance to
grieve, please don't cry for me.
This was not my doing as I always
intended it to be.

Try to understand that ghosts can only
wander so far before they linger
back home and stories can only live
so long as they are still told to eager
listeners moments away from being
tucked safely into bed as dreams make
their way into the room

awaiting the innocent bliss of a child's
sound slumber. Yes, I know its a bad
comparison for you, but it's all I've got,
I will return, so please just

try to understand.

This morning someone wanted to take my picture
for the school news paper and my friends
couldn't understand why I let them.
So I smiled,

"Well whenever people tell me to smile for the camera
I just think of you. (Yes you, the person reading this
right now.)

And people love to ask why other people always
expect you to smile in photographs. And I tell them
it is because we hope that in the future this is
something to smile about.

So I don't understand why you won't smile for me.
Its so much more wonderful and worthwhile when you do."

Oh and by the way, I love your smile
so much.

:)

The words may not sound quite right
it may not look like all that much,
but I just thought you deserved to know
that this heart belongs to you.

No matter what you think you hear
or where you see me go,
I've got no where else to be that's
as important as here - with you.

Sure my edges are a bit rough
and I don't smile all that bright,
but you make me more complete
than I've ever been - more alive.

The words may not sound quite right
it may not look like all that much,
but this heart of mine belongs to you
and only you, my love.

Forever yours,
M.R.K.

The world shattered and the sky fell
as I was walking away, begging you
to follow me. To give some sort of
meaning to a lost girl I become.
But you didn't. I got out of sight
and far beyond ear shot, waiting for
the moment you would realize how much
we needed each other. You never came

I waited through the world's first
and second ends. I stood tall in the face
of Fear and after the silence I broke down
and watched myself lose pieces with
every step I took. The world shattered
and the sky fell as I learned that even I
don't want to be my friend which is why
I'm here, in the shadows, standing in line,
waiting to audition for loneliness.

I don't know who else to write this to
you seem to understand me
more than others try

so I am going to pour my heart out
to you

now.

I hope that's alright,
but you're the kind of person that will say yes
to anything

so long as someone's emotional well being
will benefit. And I promise
mine will

So dearest diary and closest friend,
I hope all is well in your world
because in mine the skies are grey
the clouds refuse to move away

I miss the sun
I don't remember what a smile is
I feel trapped in my own being

pencils with lead and pools of ink
just don't know how to convey
the things I feel right now

my thoughts eat themselves
before I get the chance to think them
and I am breathing enough to get by
but it's only just enough with no extra space
to breathe.

I don't understand it either,
there's nothing at all wrong
everything around me is fine,

but I need to say something
in hopes you will have the cure
I need more than ever before

being alone is a choice
but
loneliness is a disease

and lately:

I am more alone than ever before. . .

While I don't expect you
as a book with uneven lines
and coffee stains or a person
with a life to live and your own fears to face
to understand this or to help me at all

I don't know who else to write this to
you seem to understand me
more than others try

so I am just here on your door step pouring my heart out
to you.

Thank you for waltzing through my heart
while you could, I mean really,
thank you
for taking time out of your incredibly
busy schedule for me (no sarcasm,
I mean it in all honesty.) Thank you for
showing me what the definition of art really is
and the person I really want to be -

someone so much better than I was two years ago
when we met. Thank you for leaving without
saying goodbye and for teaching me what glass
feels like when it hits the wall, shatters, and
falls to the ground glistening beautifully like
new fallen snow in all it's painful perfection.

Thank you for broadening my horizons and
helping me realize that words are only ever words
and they won't change the world they,
won't always mean the same thing to everyone,
they won't always even be true. Thank you
for your stay.

"You always were my little dreamer,
my beautiful cloud dancer,
pirouetting from heart to heart rarely
if ever revisiting the ones you leave behind,"
you smiled as you pulled me just a
little closer and put your hand
over my heart.

"You found the key to my heart early on
and I wanted nothing more than to
welcome you to my life. Only you were too
innocent, too broken to be asked that then.

There was a darkened stranger in your soul
killing you a little more with each day.
And you gave me the key to your heart
in turn. ***, I couldn't stick around,
tempting you with honest promises
too far out of reach for such a sweet girl.

So I ran to my hiding place
until you were able to smile again. I had
no idea that it would hurt you so much,
I only ever wanted the best for you.
Oh, ***, thank you for forgiving my
for being so unable to see that you were
only ever truly happy right here
next to me."

With ribbons twisting in her curly blonde hair and
a sparkle in her eye she watches her dad stumble
into her room so he can kiss her good night.

"Daddy, walk a little straighter, Daddy,
you have to be alright. Mommy says the sunrise is wonderful,
but first you have to make it through the night."
she whispers, her arms reaching out.

She hears little voices outside, in the hall,
as Sleep gently pulls her away and
the surroundings begin to fade.
Every day things are fine,
it's when the stars are out that the
quarrels begin and mommy's heart
breaks just a little more.

Safely dreams come to the rescue
taking her to new lands
of ice cream and candy, with castles
made of flowers and she's the princess
with unicorn friends and shadows that
don't come out to scare her
as children tend to find as they play.

In the morning, daddy comes in
with a smile plastered on his face
and an air force suit draped over his arm,
"Sweetie, I'm going away for a while,
I hope that's okay. Just remember,
I'm always here in your heart."

As she begins to cry as all little girls would,
he notices the sun coming in from the window
it looks like a hallow above her sweet face.
He remarks how painfully beautiful such a sight is,
and as he hugs her one last time

the words escape her mother's cinnamon lips,
"Do you feel better now?" before walking him out
and locking the door.

Warm colors light my way
as I walk around town
looking for something
to do with my day.

There's not many people out
cause it is beginning to rain
and this street's dangerous
there's people outside looking in.

I don't know how they
can see us or what they think
they see anyway, but
their eyes keep accosting us.

Some of wonder and delight
others cold and dark as night,
there's chatter coming through
the frame like an open window too.

warm colors light my way
as I scratch my head and
think of something good to say,
who are these people?

Why do some laugh, like they
want to take my place while
others cry as if seeing this way
reminds them of their own pain?

This time Alice is searching
for the Mad Hatter and has
all the muchness she could
Ever dream of.

Its just that he left
Wonderland without
saying goodbye...

Or rather she was forgotten
there, left to watch it all
fall down around her
as she stands so completely

Alone.

Cheshire erased everything
except me. He took the queen
all her heads and hearts,
Even the real story that
belongs in this book
trapping me within blank pages.

And if you find this
I am sure you will

Understand.

Its just that I thought you
should know I am
going to use these pages
for something new
with very different
characters and a world
you will never see.

And someday when this
becomes a classic you
will remember how you had
your chance, but you chose
to walk away without leaving

Anything.

Welcome to Wonderland
my Mad Hatter, I'm so
displeased to announce
that none of it ever existed

I know I looked at you with horrible alien eyes
and that that was enough to hurt you
more than you hurt me by saying
those words. Yes, I was fighting tears
and I swear I thought you weren't able to
see them pushing makeup from my eyes
but I guess everyone gets things wrong
sometimes.

Honestly, I could have sworn that you could hear
my heart breaking from the moon and maybe even
Mars or Jupiter, but I suppose that it's such
a common sound no one would ever notice.

I know I looked at you with alien eyes
so realistic you were able to feel a piece
of yourself dying because you'd finally
proved me wrong.

I'm so sorry I ever
looked your way
in the first place.

Life is life and as so
often as is the case gets
in the way of living.

But here in this world
you create there's something
preventing twists and twirls
a reason for hoping - wishing.

It's a place unlike
any other, in between dreams
and reality, a story begging
to be put across silver screens.

Peace is so hard to
come by these days,
until a soul finds you
then pain and sorrow melt away. . .

Time is time and as so
often is the case
passes us by so quickly.

Does any of it ever stop
or does it just keep going,
screaming for a break?
You keep us waiting.

Promising a slow drift,
a ride across simple waves,
this simply elegant place
is somewhere everyone craves.

Candles delicately dance,
chimes sweetly sing
your smile shines so sweet
here is perfection,

fit for a king.

Give me my wings

there's nothing worse than eating
dirt when you've already tasted
the clouds. Feasting on the dreams
you fought to keep when everyone else
laughed and sipping every silver lining
you could find like warm ginger tea
after playing in fallen painted leaves.

Give me my wings

I'm someone far too enchanted
with the sky, with being able to touch
the stars that looked after me
for so many years. It's more than painful
to be here face down on the ground
with no strength to stand and no home
to go back to anymore.

Always been an angel in your eyes,

so why'd you take them back
this time? Take this ******* halo,
fallen down 'round my neck and give me
the wings I spent so long forging for myself
in the fires of Hades while he fished
for truth in its lava seas. Good or bad,
wrong or right, it doesn't matter much
when you can no longer see the light.

Night after night when the world seems silent
I dare to escape in a series of notes and rests
in hopes I might be able to find myself
once more among the songs long forgotten;

the ones I dedicated to you.

Its not a real piano, like the one I always wanted
as a young girl, but a rolled out key board
good enough to pretend the way they taught me to
so very long ago. The way you used to do
on those nights the rain came down and sleep could
not over come me no matter what we tried.

Songs gone unheard for so much longer than
any work of art ever should, memories arisen
after hours of being suppressed, I lose myself
in a series of notes and rests long forgotten
as I dare to play the songs I love;

the ones I dedicated to you.

Hey, I know you ignore these, maybe that's why I write them,
it's a good way to vent 'cause there's always a you
that writers write to and a you that singers sing to
and what better source of inspiration and pain and hatred
in all it's beautifully, sweet complexities than someone with

every piece of your heart and soul? I'm sure you don't remember,
but it's still nice to wonder if you do from time to time,
I think it makes me feel better pretending that maybe I am more than
just another face without a name that you see in line at the grocery store
and recognize without actually remembering. So I am going to ask again,

do you remember when...

There's always a you that writers write to and a you
that singers always sing to, it just so happens that for me
you are that person for me. I know you don't read these,
but it gives me peace of mind knowing at least I wrote it for you.

Is it wrong of me to say that I miss you?

Remember that time when...?

You are the oceans
and the seas -

the tree branches and
their leaves.
You are the sunrise

in the morning and
starlight when I sleep -
you are colors after

a rainstorm, your
warmth thaws the
winter freeze.

You are the air
that I breathe -
you are the wind songs

on the breeze.
You are my entire world
you mean everything to me.

Do the dead love?

Is the last kiss
of delight really so
cold to blind,
leave, then save
us all over again.

Do the dead love?

Writing all their secrets down
as tombstones crumble
on top of them yet again.

Darling, do tell me,

do the dead love?

Strawberry, you've been calling me Poetry
for years now, I thought nothing of it when
I stumbled across this new potential home,
but baby this use starting to **** me.

I hope you're well and I hope to see you soon.