Seeing you walk on mirrored images I dreamt in moments of pain,

And thinking that I one day would hold your hand in meadows and on top of the Eiffel Tower,

Yet I was so far from you,
And that, you could not bear.

There is comfort in our separation, as you've blossomed within love.

No opportunity for me to disagree if you are happy, secure and warm in the gravest of circumstances.

I feel you here with me, God knows your caring hands could still scrape along my face.

Who wouldn't imagine the infinite (nearly laughable now) possibilities that could have spawned out of our seasonal tryst, but let's give praise to the unexpected joys shot out of reality.

All pieces in place of a puzzle carved out of some improvisation.

The sweet summer sun shines on me
On a quiet bench in the city park
With my guitar and a softened voice
I write a song about a broken heart
And the way home is lit with sunglass eyes
Reflecting back the summer day
All I see is good and bad
Without much else to do or say

Steam rises from a lakefront balcony
And some react to an inside joke
Some days are meant for misery
But today is meant for calm and hope
And my way home is like a picture frame
With kisses on suntanned cheeks
All I hear is my mother's song  
On a day when the air is sweet  

A patron sells his portrait piece
But he'll paint you for a fee
With a bigger nose and bigger smile
That you can hang up for all to see
And my way home is smooth and still
Like an easy feeling country song
All I know is I am who I am
And you can always ride along

You are a mountain
I am not
You climbed up
Alone
You made yourself a mountain
And you never needed me along the way
But here I am
Alone
Making my way
I started out, searching for you
Seeing a mountain
So big and so bold
So far in the distance
The closer I got
The smaller you became...
I wasn't getting any closer to you
I was getting bigger than you
I was just becoming my own mountain

Flattered heart of the unthought
Flattened cases await departure
A mount of unused garbage
Tragedy in fuelled ignitions

Digging slowly to make sense of the mess
Accumulation of desire in haste
A hoard of heaped cotton and canvas
Looped in discourse of cages

A sleep to mask the heated moment
After a dawn the mountain blurs
Impending progression,dashing hopes
Receding rope, a destined pit

Mom and Dad both want me to be someone who's amazing, someone I'm not comfortable with being.
     Mom wants me to be someone who's too good for my own being. I'm a good enough kid.
     I do well in school. I do great in church and all the activities that come along. I do well in picking out my friends. I do great in relationships, even if I'm going around from one relationship to another.
     Dad wants me to be a girl who a big heart and smiles all around. I'm well off on my own.
    I know how to smile through the pain. I know how to get a room of full of strangers to love me, with laughter all around.  People know who I am, but do they know what I really did?
    I'm the type of girl who sneaks out my window to meet the boyfriend. I laugh at teachers and make fun of people who are lower then what my expectations lead up to.
     I'm the type of girl who's still good enough in school. I'm still the good girl, but there's an edge to me that's mean and hateful, and sometimes that comes out to show once in a while.
    I'm still figuring out which way to go. Maybe this time I need to lead myself to my own.
    I'm still the quiet kid, yet the rebellious one, who still acts like a normal, angry kid.
    Mom divorced Dad, because Dad was a "bad person."  Where are you now, Dad? Who are you, Mom?
    Who am I? Who am I supposed to be? What am I gonna turn out like? What am I doing wrong? What am I doing right?