Favoritism at its finest
you are divine in my eyes
may I imply that your aura is euphoric
and I can not tell if the more I know you
I am more lost or found than before

A mud-brunette haired woman still beneath ocher skies is undeniably under the enchantment of a man's demise.
His voice weary yet comparable to thunder crashing when the sound waves dig into her ears and bang against the inside of her head.
A fallen Prince of Darkness is the man who would sew a slight patch onto her heart. Unknown to be a conniver when distressed, culprit of the fall-apart.
Demented knowledge correlates amongst hardened truth deemed to be full of light now lay empty, never-ending quest between the forgotten and the tyranny.
The woman with a channel of thought strategic in her efforts to place out of the normal forget-me-nots.

Her elbows rest upon a window pane whilst a longing face reflects in the tinted glass
Intensified drops pitter patter echoes from their weight when crashing into and within every surface
Take away the surplus and our time is still terribly spent, although for the most part we tend to spend it well.

The world you live in is treacherous
'Tis why I live in my own
A life of another souls standards
Morals change as often as undergarments
Beliefs manipulated as common folders
Thought on top of thought
Of what-ifs and have-nots
Pleasure based on currency
And no one has the time
Self esteem became self destruction
titled

Is it getting darker?
Is it getting colder?
Why do I feel this warmth?
Is this the embrace that I have longed for?
Titled

A silent breeze until it embodies leaves
To create gentle laughter amongst the tiny green beings
Met with the melody of a mockingbird's song, perched upon a thin beam as it travels along
Across a shallow field that cannot hide its creatures from their fiends
Underneath an eagle's wings, a rabbit screams

Fair and fine
One of a kind
Not what is sought after
A piece of a whole
Refusal to grow
Taunting, cackling laughter
Nectar of fruit unable to juice
Tree of pear unable to bare
Titled

The feeling is never mutual. One person does while the other is responsible. A heart that is mendable because of its tenacity, knowledgeable of the fact that utopia is less than fantasy. Yet, to do it alone.. is nearly impossible. Finding that one is highly improbable. An explanation that will never be audible, so instead we listen to what is. **** the "norm" and **** people, I am tired of hearing mumbled curses. Ridiculous verses of what it truly is, and where it truly lies because it is so difficult to love without taping ones pride. My everything has already fallen, and I am without pity. **** the old and **** the needy. All individuals are entirely too greedy, having gratitude for barely bleeding. I am me; and if you do not see me, it may be for a shallow breathing. Heaving from hallows whilst gazing from clouds, so strung out but highly aroused. Questing for exchanged vows, told to be better off by myself. I have heard to listen to your brain for your heart will stray, though my heart is decisive when my mind is arrayed. Stay, go... Stay, go, stay is how the story goes. A beginning with no close betrayal by those never suspect of foes, yet a wolf in sheep clothes.. Always building up anticipating the blow. Continual drinking, refusal to grow since I would rather not remember the feeling at all.

Leaf tips drip dew of the mornings hue whilst their trees release a secret into the breeze, as a siren would lure you to her depths your nature leads me home. An exhale of relief as fingers trace the contours that lay beneath tough skin, though pale and bruised as once was internal. Melancholy has ceased in a rainforest scene; a lush foliage of greens thrive without constraint, just nurture. Your canopy is of a higher being who shades violent rays from penetrating between any gap or space as we have conversation about the finer things.