If hell is engulfed in fire
as bright as the sun,
And heaven is lit
by a divine light,
Then I shall die with sunglasses.

1.
Do you know, I'm coming undone
And did you notice, I'm coming round less?
Did you ever see, me hardly at your door
Then, I'm already waiting to leave?


Chorus:
We used to fit so well together
But now, we're drifting far away
We were too busy to see...us
Come undone.


2.
You didn't see my threads come undone
Too busy tallying your brownie points!
You used to be a shining star
Then again, that was so long ago.


3.
Trying to learn what the ox cannot do
And that is to unshackle its heavy load.
Drummed in the guilt, weary and sad
Could never manage it all, had come undone.


4.
Have you any idea of the many times
I've tried to call you, with my courage undone
So, how can one tell when the time is right
To take a chance in life and make that change?


Sometimes, we learn only too well!


S T, 19 April 2013

Since words have always been my closest friends-
it reasons that they're jealous now of you,
the she whose dear affection never bends
and now controls my heart beat through and through.
Ambassadors they once were to my heart
before you came and turned it inside out,
and though they matched you squarely at the start
they have since then been beaten without doubt.
So then it's little wonder they deny
to strive in constant effort to meet you.
I work them, wear them - pray that they comply
but in the end it seems they never do.
So words my once great love have lost their place
like everything that fails to match your grace.

Sometimes,
Sometimes you fall completely into pieces
And you feel broken in every way possible,
But not because you are sad,
Not because the world let you down,
Because you feel completely alive
And in love with
Something, someone, a place
So much that you can't hold yourself together.
Sometimes you feel shattered
After discovering what you are most passionate about:
You are consumed and want to be filled to the brim
With everything involving who you are,
You want to concentrate every fiber of your being
To your passion.
Being broken isn't always bad,
Sometimes, it's where you find your secret treasures.

I see the moon through my smoke tinted glasses
It's crescent shape caressing the early morning sky
Before I went out, all of my thoughts were of classes
Now, returning, I am filled with delight
The simple occurance
Of the Sun silhouetting the rock
Brings me joy
As I draw inside
Life is but a collection of experiences
And this one won't be easy to forget
As I stayed up all night
The grandeur of nature seems to beget
The beauty in little things
The sorrow in the world
All at once emotions hit me
And my thoughts begin to be twirled

Once, long ago,
An old man took me into his shop
And showed me his snowglobe collection.
Every one, spotless,
No trace of dust lining the rims.
I paused to gaze,
No,
Marvel,
At each scene:
Two children ice skating,
A milkman driving his truck,
Ladies reading magazines while having their hair styled.
Every one, spotless,
Until I lightly shook one,
Just enough so the snow sprinkled
The ice skating children,
The driving milkman,
The reading ladies.
But each scene was still, frozen in time,
Still, perfect.
I slumped to the floor,
Heartbroken and tears trailing down my cheeks.
I wanted their life so bad,
But all I could do was marvel,
No,
Gaze,
And lightly sprinkle the tiny figurines.

Growing up I discovered that it is innate
In human nature
To find, seek, or beg for affection.
I stayed silent in order to watch those around me:
Some were good at capturing attention
Like on a warm summer night
And children and running around with glass jars
Procuring fireflies that shine like precious gems.
These children had the talent of keeping the fireflies
Dazzling for days.
Some sought after the coveted attention,
With their baited fishing poles in hand,
They patiently waited in the middle of the lake
And held onto their prize when caught
Until it died when they would go and fish for a new one.
Perhaps a longer, bigger, heavier, more valuable catch.
Some are light, ethereal,
Like a subtle perfume you can only smell
When you are mere inches away from the wearer.
They are sweet and not too persistent in their ways.
I continued to watch
And place people in these categories.
What they all in common, though,
Was selling their precious:
The fireflies, the fish, the perfume.
I looked to myself,
What did I have to sell? To offer?
Anything at all?
Surely I wasn’t as skilled as the lightning bug trapper
Or as patient as the fisherman
Or as fragrant as the perfume-wearer.
Instead, I was the girl
Who would admire the stars for all they are,
But not try to keep one;
Who would live in the now
Rather than feebly attempting to move my watch
Back a few years.
It was then I realized,
My love is not for sale.

I ruminate confined in my white room
about what is too much to now confide,
in you, the she who left more than perfume.
Forgive me if these words seem qualified:
It only took one week of sleep by you...
habitualized embracing through a dream.
and now deprived of contact all night through,
tonight is longer than all nights beside you seem.
Despite your sweet suggestions, I can't sleep,
I think a thousand thoughts all at one time-
So, though I need not hours we tried keep,
I'll use them now to write you verse and rhyme.
It seems there's nothing else that I can do,
for while I toss and turn, thoughts turn to you.

you slept on the inside of the bed
I on the outside
you were cooler
I was calmer
and we talked of everything
but of course - mostly - nothing
you left early in the morning
I slept while you readied

you eskimo kissed my nose
to say you were leaving
and leaving me there
and before my smile reached both ears
you reached the door and were gone
but still there in my head
heading toward my heart