She closed the door
On what could have been
Wiped the floor
Of what should have been
Cleared the shelves of our memories
Washing her hands
Of the eternity
That we had both promised.
She painted the walls, and decked the halls
With her new lovers pen
Changed the locks
So I couldn't see her again.
She wrote away our history
On a little post it note
And sent it in an envelope of
Divorce papers
She called in the painters and decorators
And started anew
Put to bed
All that we'd been through
And left me dangling
By a thread
Waiting for the phone to call
For any sign at all
That this wasn't true.
Waiting for the I love yous
That had warmed even the coldest of mornings
Better than any cup of coffee ever could
Waiting for the reassuring cuddles and kisses
That had made me feel so, so good.
Waiting
For
The one person who had always caught me, to catch me
As I fell
Head first into an abyss
Of late nights and stiff drinks
That she'd spent years, pouring down sinks.
But since she's been gone
I've picked up the bottle again
And it's began to throttle the pain.
So I drink down the past and remains in whiskey drops
Until the floor lures me
I lose sight of the clocks
And hit the decks.
If I was a pirate,
I'd make a mighty good ship mate
But as it is
I'm not and I'm late for work
And wearing odd socks
A shadow of the man I used to be.
And even my shadow doesn't recognise me.

As the fire burns me alive, it feasts upon my skin
greedily ******* the oxygen from my lungs
I can feel the heat licking at my body
It started at my feet
But it won't stop there...
I can feel the Smoke filling me
With every gasp my weak body forces me to take
I'm given no choice
As the Smoke saunters into my airways
Slithers down my lungs
Down to the very last alveolus.

As the endless coughing begins, I ponder my actions
I think of what I did to deserve this
I know what I did
I sinned
An unpardonable sin

I was me

The flames continue, though I ignore them
Although the trepidation inside me burns just as badly.

I will not regret.
Why would I regret doing the only thing I was ever good at?
I was me.

I cannot beg for mercy
But I can stare into their eyes
Into their judgmental souls
I see what they do not:
They are not them.
Not a single person among them is true to self.

I smile

I breath in this staunch air, heavier than the blanket
of breathlessness that I've been enveloped in
for days now
Maybe years even
I'm sure
I think

A single tear tries to offer me one last aqueous solace
Before it withers in the heat

I still can't believe it all had to go this far

I cannot beg for mercy
I won't pretend I'm sorry
I won't let myself down

It's my turn now.
I will light the way.

I like the way the sky smells in the summer
And your hand in my hair
I like coffee and cigarettes
And how the ashtray fills with our secrets
I like it rough
And every end of a good book
I like the greener side of happiness
And the way it was
I like a mystic sense of humor
And magic

sometimes i wonder
if the world i live in
is one i made up in my head
that exists only for me

and if that’s true
i don’t mind
because the world i’ve created
is filled with madness
but the best madness i’ve created for myself
is you

I'm constantly at war with myself,
and it's always a matter of life and death.

Chances are, you're going to meet a birdman,
at least once, in your lifetime.
And when you do, you shall be captivated.

He will have a certain appeal,
a magnetic force so enchanting,
that you'll want to keep him, and make him yours.

You'll be tempted to spend fortunes,
to build a pretty little cage,
made out of gold and tears.

But be fooled not!
For he is nothing but a birdman,
whose nature is to roam and be free.

And at the end of the day, I find myself asking,
Why do we always want to possess,
when we see such thing of beauty, roaming 'round so free?

Is it the beauty we desire?
Or is it the freedom?