Flowered walls and pictures with scenes

of young girls
Only dressed to be seen.

A record player and a too large bed

A lonely girl who was lost in her head

She was waiting
Waiting
Waiting

For a savior

And not the Jesus that her father gave her..

Her religion became
Books
Music
Thoughts

Anything that could take her away
From those four walls.

From the nothing
That was
Every.
Single.
Day.

Like a shell

Wandering halls
And bus isles

Empty hallways
That were her home

A tiny
Small spirit
Who was all alone.

Nothing changed.
There was no one and nothing to find.

The thing that she looked for

Was only in her mind.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

A ghost of what I used to be,
though I'm not quite sure what that was.
She likes the rain because it
reminds her that even something
as beautiful as the sky is allowed to cry, too.
Skeletal hands trace the space where fire meets ice.
She was a freshly bloomed rose,
one look and I was hooked, but
I shed blood every time we touched.
My words ghost right past my lips
and she doesn't know that I like the rain
because it reminds me of her tears on
the day she left me. A little peice of her
in every small and watery drop.

I want to kiss the constellations in between us; the ones that hide amidst the places where you and I lay. This bed feels lonelier than it used to, but my heart doesn't beat as slow as it used to. I'd choose your smile over any sunset, (though they are so much prettier when I imagine I am sitting next to you.) Distance doesn't have to be all bad. And love only exists if we let it. So let your petals unfold; I'll be on the next flight out.

I like the way your words taste
not nearly copacetic daffodils
but a boisterous bouquet of
letters tied so neatly
so crisply
that I dare not close my ears
even just for a second
because a time without you in my mind
is one I'd rather leave behind