out side my window is a willow tree
windy days, if I set quiet, it whispers to me
some days it talks of life, and last chances
some days it talks of love, and romances
another day it whispers of just, this and that
there are days by myself its nice for a chat
on days I am feeling bad, it whispers sad
and it tells me that things will be alright
it whispers in the day, it whispers in the night
I listen often in bed as my head lays on the pillow
happy that I have, a whispering willow*...JMF

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack

Losing a friend is like mourning a loved one.
Your heart breaks,
You can't spend more than a couple hours without thinking about them.
Then you see a picture, you have a memory, or you see them,
And it all comes rushing back.
The good, the bad.
Everything you want to remember and everything you don't.
But now you don't want to remember it at all.
You just want it all to go away,
For the memories to subside,
To be lucky enough to never see them around,
To never have them pass your mind.
Meanwhile, you're losing your mind.
You can't stop thinking about them or dreaming about them.
You can't suppress the memories because they were just too perfect.
Now you're left to wonder,
Wonder why they left,
Wonder what you've done.
But all you have left is a heartbreak that can't be undone.

I'm stuffing needles down my throat
So that maybe I can release the pressure that's been building up inside of me
Maybe One might ***** the source of my sorrows allowing me to be free of the ******* weight thats wrapped around my ankles, I can't move
But the needles are carving into my esophagus
Words of a pessimist
I can't breathe
Maybe I can calm the demons dancing around with a pill or a potion
But the smoke you blow in my face feads the forgotten souls
Resurfaces the things I tried to force out of my mind so hard  that they embedded into the under lying layer of my skin
I keep thinking that maybe a blade could do the trick
A price to pay for the way I act
A punishment or maybe it's an attachment
Who knows I can't ever quite it
Like smoking cigarette after cigarette
I turn my lungs black and my wrists red
Can I ever look back
Without wanting to hack myself into pieces?

"I am going to love you
until the earth quits
its endless rotations.
I am going to love you
until my bones run dry.
I am going to love you
until children stop coloring
out of the lines.
I am going to love you,
and I am going to do it
right," he said,
grabbing my hand.
A tear escaped my right eye,
because I didn't have the heart
to tell him
I would never
feel that way.

Stained.
Like the blood on my hands have dried to a crust.
My heart had thawed but now has freezer burn.
The strands of blonde that were bleached last year.
The words that I won't forget.
Stained.
Like the white dress that has now turned yellow.
The dried candle wax that won't come off the carpet.
Don't love me, or I will become hard.
Don't leave me
Or I will become,
Stained.

Cracked images
Stained glass
Each piece arranged
In an interlacing jaggered masterpiece
Tears fall
Tracing paths
Highlighting the intricate symbols
Liquid crystals in the dying light
Sparkling pearls upon living glass
Dexterous additions
To the visual symphony.

The storm grows
The heavens pour
Colours flash amongst the greys
It tastes like salt.