Have  I ever told you- I still have your boutonniere?
Perched proudly upon my poetry books~
All of the memories of "Us" may have been stored-
hidden-
in a box solely for those memories
but that flower stands proudly,
untouched from the date- May 3rd

Fragile as it may be ( now dehydrated )
It remains a symbol of our love -
Filled with beauty, and fantasy-
but now dried out-
yet I still have it

Should I throw it away?
Forget and abandon it-
Or keep it as a memory?
and risk it growing on me
The longer it stays
the more questions arise...

Do you still have yours- Or is it gone forever?
*Do withered flowers lose their beauty?

The words unsaid are infinite
The words i say are a summary
The words you hear are filtered
The words i hear are my downfall

Don't talk to me of love
Don't talk to me of love
I want none
This illusion of the above is crap
The words have lost their meaning
They're just stealing what we push on them

Don't talk to me of love
Oh would you like a dove to fly above?
Well ****
This word love, doesn't work like that
That is all just crap
Don't talk to me of doves and roses
Roses are a symbol of love they say
Quite right it has thorns all over it
And it quickly withers

Don't talk to me of love
Placing our hopes in others
What are these lovers going to do for you?
They all just fall through

This love you speak of needs glue
It's shattered and broken  
It's cynical and tired
And you know what - it's fired!

Don't talk to me of love
Talk to me of self love
Talk to me of friendship and family
Don't talk to me of superficial love
The coupled, masqueraded facade we all seem so willing to participate in
Put it in the bin

Don't talk to me of love

I stop to think a while
And then I realize…
Running away never helps
We humans, we
Like to complicate everything
If something disturbs me
I should just admit it
And deal with it
Accordingly

So I went back to sleep
I dreamt again
I dreamt of the past, the present, and future
I dreamt of monsters, dead and alive
I dreamt of birds, and kites and hives
I dreamt of people
Ones I knew and know
And even those I have yet to meet

I dreamt of dreams and reality
I dreamt, and dreamt
Peacefully
I knew now that
It was okay to dream
It was okay to feel
It was okay to want
It was okay to be

I learned to stop
Stop being so harsh
On my own self
I learned to accept
Finally
My own reality
And that it was okay to just be
The way I am…

I once lot myself to sadness.
I've been to that ledge
And I'm lucky to say I've not jumped off.
But I do understand
And I pull power from that comprehension.
It's almost impossible to believe it when you're there,
That this could ever be something you might survive.
Everything seems so concrete.
But I stand as proof that this is not so.
I once lost myself to sadness.
I do expect to again encounter it,
But I know now,
at least,
There is an end.