The wind tickles my clothes
as a soft, gentle welcome
The pavement knocks at my feet
to show its support
The flowers waltz through my nose
intoxicating my brain with sweet, sweet smells
The sun brightens my eyes
as if a wake up call
The birds serenade my heart
with their heartfelt melodies
The grass softens my hands
for the earth's light, yet heavy, touch
What a kind, broken place

These winter months are barren
with grief and nostalgic memories

As snow consumes the streets,
you consume my mind
Filling it up
and making me fall

The trees are naked and vulnerable
like you made me feel

We were a house without a roof,
a soldier without a shield

I should stay away from your poison
but the thought of you calls me back

Late night thoughts
                       turn into
                                  truth
                    ­                 honesty
      everything I'm afraid of

Why can't we die in dreams?
Is it because we haven't experienced death
or because no one knows what lies beyond?

Why can't we feel in dreams?
Is it because it's purely imagination
or because we choose not to go that far?

Why can't we smell in dreams?
Is it because our brains aren't processing
or because smells can be dangerous?
As can death and touch
It seems to me that in times of slumber
our brains protect us from all the power we have

A brain is a marvelous thing
Thoughts and communication
Stuck in little files
Waiting to be opened and remembered

Books;
the very bearings of our souls
pages of emotions just dying to get out
the stories of our deepest secrets hiding in

Books;
form of communication passed through time
memories shared and people changed

Who knew some sheets with jotted down words could mean so much?

Mothers cried for their children to see
The threat of this nation and it's captivity
Liberty, life, and the pursuit of happiness
Was never the truth, you see